"My lady! Where have you been?!"
Adelle's voice echoed through the grand halls like an emergency siren, her dramatic wail carrying enough concern to make anyone within a five-mile radius assume Ava had been kidnapped, lost at sea, or perhaps abducted by aliens.
Ava barely had time to blink before Adelle practically took flight, her arms flailing as she sprinted towards her at full, reckless speed.
Behind her, Butler Eduardo walked with the regal, measured pace of a man who had seen things—things he did not approve of, things that haunted him in his sleep. His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture stiff, his soul weary.
"Please, no running in the manor, Miss Whitmore," he intoned with the kind of grave authority one reserved for life-or-death situations. "That is not how a woman should act."
Adelle, naturally, ignored him entirely.
