a

e, whispering trees. The wind was a physical thing, clawing at my thin jacket, seepi

st the dying light, a group

cou

irk on her face. Her expensive leather boots were pristine, planted fi

ith mock pity. "The stray has found its way to the

and stuck her foot out as I tried to pass. A

motion that was almost like a dance. Her foot met only air, and the momentum sent her

ss piece of trash!" she shrieked, pointing a finger at my face. "Y

s placid, my voice even. "That's a good question, Chandler. If I'm

l reason for my return, and the not-knowing was eating at her. Her status, her entire world, was built on bei

s, her mouth opening a

I walked around her and her stunne

s if tired of standing. The door hung crookedly on a single hinge. I p

ushed against one wall. A broken table with three legs listed in the corne

gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Tears welled in her e

floor and immediately went to work. I found a broken broom in the corner and began sweep

water," I instructed, my tone

we managed to make the hovel marginally clean

the sound of heavy, purposeful foo

utler, his face a stiff, impassive mask. In his gloved hand, he held a cr

ppearance. "You have been summoned. Your father, Justin Wils

a stark contrast to the squalor surrounding me. My fathe

eyes wide with fear. "It

hispered back, patting her

nail on the wall. I looked at my reflection. I had already clea

face. I scooped up a tiny bit of dust from the windowsill and smudged it lightly

Ava, the poor, pitiful orphan. A role I knew

cold night, walking toward the main house. This meeting wasn't a summons.

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