"You don't belong here."

That was the very first thing Rowan's Luna; Lyra, said to me the moment we were alone together as our guide took a detour to deliver another message to someone else.

Her voice was smooth as silk, but she had a dangerous look in her eyes as she stared daggers at me.

I stopped walking and turned to face her, taking in the full picture.

Her bright red hair swept into an impossibly elegant updo, and she wore an emerald dress that probably cost more than everything I'd ...