To my surprise, Claudette shoots me a wounded look and turns her nose up before flouncing into her carriage. I turn to Odessa. “Um, what was that?” “I think it’s my fault,” a low familiar voice sounds from behind the second carriage, and Daemon walks out to greet us. He rubs the back of his neck and looks down, slightly embarrassed. “Don’t worry about it.” I scoff. “Oh, please. I’ve never not worried about anything in my life. What happened?”
