“She’s going to be fine, right?” Dmitri asks, for perhaps the tenth time, earning an annoyed nod from Agatha, who has at this point, gotten tired of answering his worried questions.
We are in the cottage, and it feels a little crowded because of Nan and Marcello who have taken up space in the place as spectators. Marcia, Theo, and Athena are just outside, patrolling near the window and badly pretending not to peek in or eavesdrop. Marcello moves over to the window and shuts it. Their collective sigh of frustration makes the cottage shudder.
I’m lying in bed, and to be honest, I feel a little like a sacrificial lamb. I have to keep reminding myself that I’ll be fine, that Dmitri is right next to me, and Agatha wouldn’t try anything that’s not guaranteed to succeed; she’s not like her sist
