𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 / 𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒃 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌

𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆

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𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 

𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 

𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴; 

𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴, 𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘸, 

𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥 

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 

𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘵.

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"𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋?" 𝐃𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐃 as Alysane let herself back into their chambers with a slam of the door.

Both Dacey and Lyra had abandoned the window in the alcove of the wall, lounging their bodies instead across the beds like gossiping children. Something about the way their expressions straightened made Alysane guess they'd been talking about her.

Alysane let her body fall onto the furs of her own bed, beside Lyra, and sighed. "It went as well as you'd imagine."

Lyra cocked an eyebrow as if questioningly urging her to elaborate. But before Alysane could open her mouth, a knock echoed through the suddenly quiet room.