Lyra closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, holding back the storm of conflicted emotions inside her.
"Fine," she exhaled.
She stood up abruptly. The stool she had been sitting on scraped back and toppled over.
"Let's go," she said to the maid.
The maid hurried to her feet and followed Lyra, relieved that Lyra still had some tolerance toward her.
"Let me guide you to the dining room," the maid said, stepping ahead of her.
"What's your name?" Lyra asked.
"Meena… just call me Meena," she answered.
They descended the stairs, turned left, and headed toward the dining area.
As they stepped inside, the other maid offered a bow. Dante was already seated, having breakfast with Alex.
Alex immediately set down his cutlery and stood, hurrying toward Lyra. She did the same, darting past the maid and throwing her arms around her father.
She pulled back and cupped his face, then gripped his shoulders, examining him anxiously until her gaze dropped to his leg—where he had been shot.
