People have bad things to say about publishers, but I think they still have services, and I want to see what they are. And if they end up not being any good, I don't have to keep using them.

I only saw fire and chandeliers and smoke. No people. Not the room. Not even a time frame. Do you know how many chandeliers there are in the south wing alone? What was I supposed to do? Tell everyone to avoid chandeliers forever?

How did you even know I wasn't in my room?" "I checked on you." Finn gave me a look like I was an idiot. "I check on you every morning." "You check on me when I'm sleeping?" I gaped at him. "Every morning?" He nodded. "I didn't know that." "Why would you know that? You're sleeping," Finn pointed out.

I was always writing. When I was a little kid, before I learned how to write, I would tell stories. But as soon I as capable, I started writing. I filled notebooks and notebooks until I got my first computer when I was 11. It never really occurred to me that I would do anything else.

Have you tried?" Tove countered, his eyes sparkling. "Well...no," I admitted. "Do it." "How?" He shrugged. "Figure it out." "You're really good at this training thing," I said with a sigh.

Nothing is 'just' anything with you

Yeah, you're probably right," I admitted and slowly pulled myself out from underneath the covers. "You know, I really wish you'd catch onto the fact that I'm always right.