Being a boy is so strange. My center of gravity is all wrong, I don’t like the way clothes fit, and I know too many things about Aratir that really ought to be learned only after being treated to dinner and a play. I can’t look at him without blushing anymore. It’s so awkward.
Lucy and the others are really excited about turning this keep into Dawnstrider Headquarters once we’ve ousted William…I just hope they have some plan to get rid of the rats, ghosts, mold, rotting foodstuffs, and other ancient, unpleasant debris. Seriously, who’s been living here? I grew up in a street gang, surrounded by illiterate, high-functioning alcoholic sadists who could barely tie their own shoes, and they were STILL tidier than this.