35
WHITLEY
“I’m really not up for this,” I grumbled as English directed me down the pathway toward Bethesda Fountain in Central Park.
Katherine and Lark were also on duty, walking on either side of us.
“I know, but you need this,” English said.
Katherine nodded. “It’s true. You slept for fifteen hours. You need fresh air.”
“And sunshine,” Lark added.
There was no point in arguing. I hadn’t argued when they showed up at my apartment and escorted me into an awaiting car that dropped us off at the edge of Central Park. I’d barely had enough time to change. Katherine had applied makeup to my splotchy face in the car. I wasn’t sure what I looked like, but if Katherine approved, then I guessed I was safe for a public appearance.
“Are the pictures from yesterday everywhere?” I asked, biti
