“Bring me Dorothy,” he said. “Now.”
Dorothy arrived mid-morning.
She was calm.
Too calm for someone stepping into a room where anger had already broken furniture.
She walked in slowly, hands folded in front of her, a scarf hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her eyes briefly scanned the room, then the tense warriors standing around the hall.
Finally, she looked at Lucian.
“I assume this is about Meadow,” she said.
Lucian did not waste time.
“Where is she?”
Dorothy sighed softly, like she was tired of a conversation she did not want to have.
“She left,” she answered simply.
Clarissa immediately stepped forward.
“She helped her,” she said sharply. “She must have. She’s the only one close enough to Meadow who could help her escape.”
Dorothy’s gaze moved briefly toward Clarissa.
