To show just how little she cared about other people's lives, she called for a servant and ordered her morning blood tea to be brought. Only then did she turn to face Mr. Clifton and, with a bland tone of disinterest, inquire, "Who died?"
No doubt one of his human acquaintances had lost their fragile life, and he had thought to come and tell her, as if she cared, Cordelia thought with an internal scoff.
Josh ran his hands through his black hair and gritted out, "Your friends. Our only connections to the ancient, wealthy pure-bloods in Nightbrook, the Rothbarths, the Greywolves, and the Morgans. They were attacked by rogues last night, and no one survived, not the families, not even the workers. I can't believe this happened when they were the ones helping our connections grow!"
