“Elara,” she said, her voice low and smooth as polished stone. “Do this for me.”
And Elara knew—she already had.
“Do this for me.”
Elara stood in the center of the library, her hands clasped in front of her. She had been summoned, as she always was, by a single folded note slipped under her door: “Come. I have something for you. —Missax.”
“Elara,” she said, her voice low and smooth as polished stone. “Do this for me.”
And Elara knew—she already had.
“Do this for me.”
Elara stood in the center of the library, her hands clasped in front of her. She had been summoned, as she always was, by a single folded note slipped under her door: “Come. I have something for you. —Missax.”
