ARYA

Maya looked paler than I'd ever seen her. Her lips were slightly blue and her skin was clammy to the touch. The antidote had been administered hours ago, yet she only seemed to be getting weaker. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, strained breaths.

I held on to her hand, wiping away the tears slipping down my cheeks.

She smiled weakly, gently squeezing my hand to comfort me. "You look ugly when you cry," she croaked, and I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart ...