The next day in Zeden arrived with the same clear skies and golden sun as the one before, but Elizabeth Winters couldn't feel any of its brightness.
The warmth streaming through her tall bedroom windows barely registered in her mind. She was pacing, her fluffy slippers brushed over the polished hardwood floor as she moved from one end of her room to the other, then turned and started again.
Her eyes were tired, though she hadn't slept much, and her hands were clenched at her sides, fingers twitching like they needed something to hold on to—anything to anchor her spiraling thoughts.
Where was Ivy?
It had been a whole day since she learned Ivy had left Stefan's house. No explanation. No calls. No messages. Nothing.
And though she had gone straight to the one place she was sure Ivy would be—her mother's home—she had left there with even more questions.
