If she had thought about her rebelliousness and desire to do something dangerous, she may have concluded it was because she kept hearing that Caleb was with this woman and or that woman. She could barely be civil if she met him, or them, at a club. He kept promising her nothing was happening, that his father, the king, arranged the outings. Outings? Is that what they were calling it now? But as soon as she saw him in the flesh she forgave him. One day, when she and Sacha were both on holidays, she was venting at home about Caleb. “Ara, you’re not being rational.” “I know.” Sacha sighed. “Why does it get to you?” “I don’t know!” I love him. “Just try to have fun and ignore him.” “But he’s back on Saratoga. We go to the same clubs—” She groaned. “Are you in love with him?” Sacha touched her cheek fondly. Sacha’s long, blonde hair was falling over her shoulders and her green eyes were bright. Ara laughed and then cried, nodding. Sacha hugged her. “Hey, you never cry anymore.”
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