Rowan leaned to Evie and she bounced where she stood.
"I like your hair," he said.
"I like yours too," she said. "But maybe purple would be better, a mix of blue and pink, to stick your tongue out at stereotypes."
Rowan shrugged and said, "I like green. It warns people that I'll make them sick if they don't accept who I am and all the complexity that goes along with it."
"Oh," Evie said, nodding as if she understood.
"Your hair," he said, lowing his voice, "I hardly ever see anyone dye it that shade of red."
"Really? Demon red seems common enough in the aisle with the dye."
"It's the specific shade," he said. "It smacks the face of authority. Like announcing you're a supporter of the Red Dragon."
Evie snickered, lowered her voice.
"I am."
YOU ARE READING
The Lamb and the Gray Battle
FantasyEvie has spent the last 575 years on the North American continent, now called America, the Pure and Clean. She smiles, volunteers and makes cakes and pastries for her neighbors, hiding away her demon blood. She wants nothing to do with her estranged...
