Chapter 112

• Wren’s POV
• I wore a groove into the floor. Back and forth, forth and back. The pack house was quiet in that deceptive, after-midnight way, even the servants had retired. My bare feet made almost no noise on the polished wood, but to me it echoed.
• Robin’s door loomed in front of me, closed, solid, unbearably present. I should have just gone to my room and just slept. I should have done a lot of things that weren’t this. Instead, I paced.