I close the door to my study and when I turn down the hallway to go to dinner, Elyria and Isolde are standing at the top of the stairs.
Isolde’s got that look—brows drawn, arms crossed, chewing the inside of her cheek like she’s debating how much trouble she is about to stir. Elyria, on the other hand, as usual, doesn’t bother with the preamble.
“Have you seen Serenya today?”
I frowned and moved toward them. “Not since last night. Why?”
Isolde’s eyes darted from Elyria to me. “Because no one has seen her. Not since she said she was going to bed after dinner.”
I glanced at Serenya’s door down the hallway. “You checked her room?”
“Twice,” Isolde said. “She’s not there.”
“Before you ask if we’ve tried to call her, we have. Her phone is on the nightstand next to her bed,” Elyria said. T
