Sashenka Hensley tossed her heavy suitcase, the last of her belongings, onto the bed and spun in a circle, hugging herself and grinning. I grinned right back, as weird as it felt to have her living in Meira's room.

"This is perfect." My second ran her fingers over the pink walls, her magic sparkling out, tinting the paint as it traveled. A glittering wash converted the shade to a more demure taupe. "Well," she said with a wink, "now it's perfect."

I laughed as her magic ...