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Did he—did he—DID HE JUST CALL ME A THING?!
Excuse me?! I may be five. I may look small and adorable with cheeks like mochi and lashes longer than your future—but I am not a THING!
I was ready to scream, maybe even throw a punch with my beautiful, tiny fist, but before I could explode—
"Lysandre, hold her." Grandpa Thalein's deep voice rumbled like thunder as he passed me—PASSED ME! Like a doll!—into Lysandre's waiting arms.
And Lysandre? That weird, sparkle-eyed ...
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