I set my spoon against the edge of my bowl.

“I think I’ll go upstairs and pack my things for the morning.”

“If you walk out of this room right now, you’re just throwing a childish tantrum,” Arthur said, pointing at the arched doorway.

“We’re having a family dinner.”

I didn’t answer him.

I quietly pushed my chair back, stood up from the table, and walked out into the front hall toward the stairs.

The guest bedroom on the second floor was chilly and smelled faintly of dried lavender and old wool blankets.