By the time they landed at a New York airport, Franklin was thoroughly sick of Greneth, his poem, and his artsy airs. The only amusement had been seeing the blond shoot dagger looks at Bren's back. Every time Senya leaned close to whisper into Bren's ear, Greneth's narrowed eyes got tighter, and a little muscle ticked in his jaw.

Maybe Migina's right about them? Though I thought he and Griselda had something. Unless they're all sharing?

Franklin made a mental note to ...