"What is she to you?" Diana asked. "Your sister, your lover, your ward?"
I stared off into the distance, checking the facets of the thoughts, the bond, until I found words that could express them. "We share no blood," I said, "neither through shared lineage nor ceremony. We have spilled no blood beside each other, so she cannot be my sister-in-arms. We do not have sex, so she cannot be my lover. Neither of us are weak or ignorant enough to be the other's ward."
"Then she is nothing."
I tipped my head back, searching the clear sky for an answer. Stranger things have happened. "Chrysanthemum is the most important person in my world. We are not bound by blood or by sex or by vow or by duty, and yet." A corner of my mouth tucked up and I looked at Diana. "I love her. And she loves me, though that only barely matters. We are ourselves, and we are better together." I spread my hands. "Sisters, if you must, though no oddity done should we become lovers. Or lovers, for we share love, if not in that fashion. Perhaps we are each other's wards."
I shrugged and began walking. "We are friends. I would not trade it for anything."