"Where's Soren anyway?" I asked, already feeling the last threads of my patience snap like overstretched rubber bands.
"He had a prior engagement at the Royal Palace," Agatha replied smoothly, as if that sentence didn't just seal my fate.
I closed my eyes for a second.
Just one second.
To process.
To grieve.
To accept that the one person responsible for this entire mess had very conveniently removed himself from the situation and left me—me—to deal with the consequences.
I opened my eyes again and staring blankly into the distance where Gawain's screams were steadily becoming more distant and, somehow, more dramatic.
The mastermind was out attending royal tea or whatever people did in palaces, the Mad Dogs were out for blood, Agatha had decided this was peak entertainment, and I—
I was apparently the designated emergency response team.
I dragged a hand down my face, already feeling a headache forming.
"Great," I sighed. "Perfect. Amazing. Love that for me."
