It's hard not to feel like a rag doll being passed around from owner to owner.
Guards to Caspian.
Caspian to guards.
Back to Caspian and now, Atticus.
I wait to feel some sort of relief at having him here, but between my frustration and the fact that I just saw his son basically being ripped apart, all I feel is the same anxious intimidation I always feel. But I don't want to be rude. I don't want to see Atticus ripped apart in the same horrifying way that his son had been.
Slowly, I place my hand on Atticus' outstretched elbow, and he smiles like the cat that got the canary. The guards bow as he leads us out of Caspian's office and down towards the next large door.
"You seem troubled today, Luna," Atticus says finally as he opens the door, gesturing for me to step into the room.
