Cassidy grabbed my wrist and pulled me down the hallway before Harlow could finish her taxonomy of mythological household servants. Harlow called after us that she would save Isaiah more waffles, that she had a new anime to show Iris, and that someone should tell Vivienne to stop googling rock-paper-scissors strategies because it was over and paper had won.
Cassidy didn't stop pulling until we'd turned two corners and ended up in a small alcove near the library entrance that I recognized from previous experience as one of the manor's many pockets of dead space. Places where hallways met at odd angles and created little nooks that served no purpose except giving the impression that the architect had been paid by the square foot and was determined to earn every cent.
She released my wrist and crossed her arms.
