Elara was seated alone in the Lyselle Manor's grand library, flipping through a magazine she had no interest in. It had been hours since Helena's apology, and despite the woman's attempt to reassure her, Elara's nerves felt like they'd been dunked in espresso and fried in a skillet.
Amara was still missing, Gerald was in a hospital bed, and the media was probably having a field day with every wild headline they could concoct. And now, here she was, in this cavernous, overly ornate room with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.
Or so she thought.
[Finally! You've stopped sulking. Took you long enough.]
Elara froze. The voice had come out of nowhere, sharp and dripping with sarcasm. She looked around the room, half expecting Marisol to pop out from behind a bookshelf with another snippy remark about how this PR mess was "character-building."
But no one was there.
[No, no, genius, over here. Or rather, in here. Hello!]
