October 7
The phone rang only twice before it was picked up. "Hello?"
Polite curiosity. Carlisle's number had been in an email forwarded to her by the latest secretary, but he didn't have hers, so he didn't yet know who was calling.
"It's Diana." She hesitated. "I'm actually not sure how to start this conversation."
"Alright," Carlisle said easily. "Take your time."
Diana sighed through her nose, trying to decide where to start. "Your email said I could call you if I had any questions."
"It did."
"You didn't specify, but because you're a doctor I assume you meant medical questions." That was certainly what the context of the email had implied, letting her know that she could reach out if she had any questions regarding the decision before her.
The utterly insane decision before her.
"You have a medical question?"
"No. I have a philosophical question." Diana drummed her fingers agitatedly on the wood of the desk in her hotel room. "I'm hoping to speak to hear your thoughts as a Christian and as a… vegetarian, not as a physician."
Carlisle was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Alright."
"In fact," Diana said apologetically, "Now that I think about it I'm hoping to use this call as something of a confessional, which I realize isn't fair to do to you based solely on your religion, but I don't really have anyone else I can call."
"Ah," said Carlisle. "And here I thought Aro had told you that I was an Anglican pastor."
"Wait, really?" She wasn't entirely sure from the doctor's dry tone whether he was serious or joking.
"Really." Serious, then. Diana frowned, absorbing this new information.
"Do Anglicans do confession?" She had no idea. She barely remembered how Catholic confessions worked—she hadn't even been to church since her father's funeral, and that had been more than a decage ago.
"They do."
"Alright, then." She held her breath for a moment, struggling to put her thoughts in some kind of order, then released the air in a long, deliberate exhale.
"I'm struggling to make a decision," she said finally, her voice quiet. "I've listened to Aro, I've listened to you—I've made lists upon lists of all the pros and cons I can think of, and no matter how many times I do the math, somehow, impossibly, it seems like the benefits of going through with this insane plan outweigh the costs. But I don't feel like I can trust myself, because I—"
Diana faltered. It was one thing to think it, however briefly. It was another thing entirely to say it out loud. But it was true either way, and that was what pushed her to continue.
"I want it," she confessed. "I didn't, at first. The idea of never dying, of living to be as old as Aro is—that terrified me. But now… the more I think about it, the more appealing it sounds. I want to see what happens in the next hundred years, and the next hundred after that. I want to witness it myself. I want to read every book in Aro's ridiculous, beautiful library."
She shook her head, trying to tamp down the longing in her voice as she continued.
"But I know, I know that if I do that—I'll almost certainly kill people. Hopefully by accident, but probably not. Maybe I won't care. Maybe I already don't care, since I'm even considering it. So, I'm struggling. Because I know what I want already, and I also know that I shouldn't want it."
Silence stretched on the other end of the line. Diana clenched her fist on the desk, her knuckles turning white. "Please say something."
"I think," Carlisle said carefully, "that so long as you continue to struggle with these questions, then you are doing the best that anyone could ask."
"But will I?" Diana prompted. "If I change, will I still struggle with them?"
Carlisle paused. Diana appreciated that he was thinking about his response, rather than rushing to reassure her with platitudes.
"There are no guarantees with these things. But if you'll forgive a wild conjecture… yes, I think so. If it's true that the venom makes us more of what we are, then I think you will."
Diana sighed, closing her eyes. "Thank you, Carlisle."
"You're most welcome, Diana." Carlisle paused again, then continued hesitantly, "I don't mean to pry, but I can't help but notice you didn't mention struggling with the other part of Aro's proposition."
Diana nodded, though he couldn't see her. "You are reasonably confident I can survive it, correct?"
"There are always risks," Carlisle warned, "But yes. Having done this before, I'm optimistic." Then, more emphatically, "But I want to reiterate that your transformation isn't conditional on your answer. If you don't want—"
"You don't need to worry about that."
The idea had repulsed her initially, of course. But she had made lists of pros and cons for more than just immortality, and while the cons list was quite graphic, there were undeniable benefits, too.
If she was to become a vampire, this would be her only opportunity to have a child. She would never have another chance. And while Diana had never really pictured having children of her own, she had been fine with that because she had had her sister.
Diana had already been a teenager when Mac was born, and had half raised her herself. There would be no need for Diana to ever settle down and have children, because she would always have Mac. And if Mac had had children, then Diana would have loved and cared for them, too.
But Mac was gone. Dead. And now, faced with the prospect of an eternity without her—
"Obviously I would prefer that my child wasn't conceived out of political necessity and destined for an eternity with a target on their back because of their parentage," Diana said lowly. "And maybe one day they'll grow to hate me for that. But if I truly am going to live forever, I can't bring myself to forsake the only opportunity I'll ever have to take something of my sister with me."
Carlisle was quiet for a moment. "I understand." And from his tone Diana truly thought he did. More lightly, he added, "I should be seeing you soon, then."
Diana nodded pointlessly again. "Thank you. For listening."
"Any time, Diana."
October 16
Aro was ecstatic to see her again.
"My dear, dear Diana." He didn't take her hand this time, but instead gripped her lightly by the shoulders and brushed light, affectionate pecks on each of her cheeks. Diana, slightly stunned by the intimacy of the gesture, simply stared as he drew back and offered her a beaming smile. "I cannot express how delighted I am by your decision."
"It's not without conditions," Diana reminded him sternly.
After her call with Carlisle she had spent the better part of a day holed up in her hotel room in Bruges, drafting a contract which would formalize the ground rules for this extremely bizarre co-parenting situation. She had sent it to Aro without comment, trusting him to infer her decision based on the fact that she was sending him such a document at all.
"Of course," Aro agreed easily. "And I have some amendments for your consideration. But come, please—negotiations can wait. I wish to show you the rooms we've prepared for you, and Carlisle is waiting to examine you."
This latter comment was not new to her, since Carlisle had texted her the evening before, requesting that she fast in the morning so he could draw her blood. Aro looped her arm through his own and began to pull her along, still talking excitedly.
"We have some very fine guest quarters in the levels below, but very few are fit for human occupation," he explained as they wound through the hallways. "Fortunately, I arranged the rooms you will be staying in some time ago, in the hopes that we could avoid any repeats of Jane and Alec's unfortunate circumstances. They have been updated quite recently." He drifted to a stop before an unremarkable wooden door not far from the main hallway which led to the reception area. "Here we are."
Diana had been momentarily concerned that Aro's idea of 'quite recently' and her own might be somewhat different, but she needn't have worried. While the walls were the same rustic stone as the rest of the rooms she'd seen in Volterra, the space revealed when Aro pushed open the door really was quite modern. The main room was comfortably furnished with a dark leather sofa, a thick burgundy rug, and a television and stereo system that looked brand new. There was a small kitchenette, too, with a fridge and a stove. High windows let in a fair amount of natural light, and at the far side of the room were three doors, two of which were open, revealing glimpses of a bedroom and a bathroom.
"A kitchen, sunlight, running water, and plumbing," Aro said, sounding rather satisfied with himself. Diana guessed that these were the primary features lacking in the 'very fine' guest quarters that weren't fit for humans.
"And a small clinic in the second bedroom." Carlisle appeared from behind the previously closed door and offered a warm smile. "Hello, Diana. How was Belgium?"
"Delightful. Am I in for a full physical, then?"
Carlisle nodded. "I'd like to have a good baseline for your health before you proceed with anything. Have you eaten today?"
"Just black coffee." His email had indicated that this was fine, which was a relief, since most mornings it was all Diana consumed.
"Then we'll do a blood test after I've got your vitals."
"I will give you some privacy," said Aro, patting Diana's hand lightly before removing it from the crook of his elbow. Diana thought this was interesting phrasing, since Aro would no doubt inevitably see everything which was about to happen from both her and Carlisle's perspectives. If Aro caught this thought, he gave no indication. "I will be in my study when you are finished, and we can go over the contract."
Carlisle was perfectly professional, which Diana appreciated. He reviewed her medical history with her first, making notes about her seasonal allergies and usual medications. This was followed by routine tests of her vitals, the most painless blood draw she'd ever experienced, and finally a pelvic exam which passed with only mild awkwardness.
"It'll be a few days before we have lab results, but from what I've seen so far, you appear to be in good health," Carlisle told her when he'd finished and she'd redressed in her own clothes. "I'd like you to keep up your physical activity and eat plenty of filling meals—though I imagine that won't be an issue if you continue to travel. And I'd like you to go ahead and start taking a prenatal vitamin."
Diana thought vitamins might be a little premature considering how much time she had left, but she wasn't about to question Carlisle's authority on supernatural pregnancies. "What sort of timeline are we looking at, here?"
"That will be up to you and Aro. The earliest you could start trying would be the first week of November. After that, it'll be around every 28 days, depending on your cycle."
"Contract negotiation time, then." Diana smiled sharply, looking forward to it. It had been far too long.
Carlisle glanced doubtfully at his watch. "It's nearly midday. I'm sure Aro wouldn't mind if you ate something, first."
"Oh, no," Diana said immediately, shaking her head. "I'd rather go into this hungry. Keeps me sharp." More accurately, the hunger made her less charitable, and thus less prone to compromising. It was a state of mind she liked to preserve whenever possible when she negotiated.
Resigned, Carlisle instructed, "Lunch right after, then."
Diana nodded, and Carlisle waved her out the door. She left her guest quarters quickly, taking a moment to orient herself in the slightly unfamiliar area before hastening in the direction of Aro's study.
She made it less than halfway there before a strong hard gripped her hard and yanked her into an alcove.
"Don't scream."
Heart jolting in terror, Diana barely had time to gasp, let alone scream, before a hand clapped over her mouth. It was a surprisingly warm hand, Diana couldn't help but notice, and as her eyes adjusted to the shadows she recognized, of all people, Renesmee.
Seeing her eyes focus, Renesmee whispered urgently, "I have to show you something."
And then, without waiting for a response, the memories began.
Once again, snippets of the Cullen coven flooded into her head. She recognized Edward, Renesmee's father, saying In the past, when Aro wanted something in particular, it was never long before evidence turned up proving that this coven or that coven had committed some unpardonable crime… Aro would grant a pardon to one member whose thoughts, he would claim, were particularly repentant. Always, it would turn out that this vampire had the gift Aro had admired. Always, this person was given a place with the guard. The gifted vampire was won over quickly… There were no exceptions.
A brief pause, a slight shift in perspective, then There is one among the guard. Her name is Chelsea. A flash of the petite vampire who'd escorted Diana back to Volterra after that first horrible day, and who'd guided her to Aro's study on more than one occasion. She has influence over the emotional ties between people. She can both loosen and secure these ties. She could make someone feel bonded to the Volturi, to want to belong, to want to please them… And then another vampire, unfamiliar to Diana but speaking with quiet confidence. Anything weaker than the bond between partners is in danger.
The stream of thought shifted abruptly, becoming less solid as Renesmee's thoughts slipped out of the realm of memory and into imagination. There was Renesmee, bronze curls flying behind her, running through a forest with a wild smile on her face, chasing a doe into a sunny clearing. Tackling the doe, warm blood gushing into her mouth, earthy but filling. Looking up from her meal to see another woman devouring a buck on the other side of the clearing, her skin sparkling like diamonds, hair like rose gold in the sunlight. Watching the woman raise her head and seeing Diana's own face, golden eyed and beautiful as she licked fresh blood from her lips.
There was a yearning associated with the image, and then a rushed jumble of words—You don't have to do this and Carlisle could change you and We could protect you and Come home with me.
When the assault finally ended Diana slumped against the wall, dazed and sick. Renesmee's hand had moved from her mouth to her cheek at some point, and now she was cradling it tenderly, whispering fervently, "You don't have to do this."
Diana closed her eyes in an effort to stop herself from vomiting.
It was hard to think, hard to get her thoughts straight as she forced herself to separate what was her from what was Renesmee. She turned her cheek away from the too-warm hand, breaking the point of contact and pressing what skin she could against the cool stone wall as she sucked in deep, calming breaths.
She did not like what had just happened.
In terms of sheer intensity, it was five times worse than the first time Renesmee had touched her. Worse, she hadn't been bracing herself for it this time. The resulting physical sensation was like a combination of the worst hangover she'd ever experienced and an abrupt sucker-punch to the gut.
As for what she'd seen… she couldn't say she liked that, either.
She tried to take the words from Renesmee's memories with a grain of salt. From the perspective it was clear that these were conversations from years ago, likely when the Cullens were gathering witnesses. They were biased against the Volturi, and so Diana didn't put much stock into the second-hand rumor about Aro destroying covens without cause so he could scoop up whatever talented vampires he pleased.
The bits about Chelsea, though—those were more difficult. In light of this new information it did seem like a terrible coincidence that Chelsea had been the one to accompany her on multiple occasions, when there were so many other vampires about to choose from. And just a few weeks ago, hadn't Diana grown alarmed at how fond she had become of Aro, how quickly she was warming up to him and the idea of vampirism?
She suspected there was truth to those accusations. Maybe there was truth to the others, too—after all, how could she judge them objectively, if her loyalties were not her own? There was no sure way to know which decisions were truly hers and which had been influenced by some supernatural power. It was a terrifying idea, and one that could easily drive someone mad.
But she didn't think she was mad. Reviewing her own decisions over the last weeks, she couldn't find a single instance where she'd acted out of character. Perhaps she was a little fonder of Aro than she should be, more forgiving, but Diana had long practiced the art of divorcing her emotions from her decision-making. Law, after all, was reason, free from passion. She'd reasoned out her decisions, weighed the consequences, and chosen the best path forward with the information available to her.
And in light of this new information…
It changed nothing. Even if Diana were utterly betrayed by Aro's deception and Chelsea's manipulations, there would still be the danger of imminent vampire rebellion. There would still be young women being raped to death by monsters. And to leave would be to forego this chance at motherhood, and by extension her only opportunity to make some small piece of her sister live on forever.
And the alternative—
What Renesmee proposed would be a disaster. It would burn the bridge between the Cullens and the Volturi that Aro and Carlisle had so carefully rebuilt. The political situation would only get worse. And even if that weren't the case, Diana had no desire to play house with a bunch of teenagers for eternity.
And as of that moment, she wanted Renesmee and her gift as far away from her as possible. Diana forced her eyes open and focused on Renesmee's left ear, unwilling to make eye contact.
"I appreciate your concern, and your offer—" A lie. Maybe it would be true if she'd tried to talk to her instead, if Renesmee hadn't forced herself on her in a dark alcove, but she had. "But my answer is no."
"But Chelsea—" Renesmee stammered. "You saw—"
Renesmee's hand twitched. Diana flinched violently away, twisting away from her grasp with such force that she stumbled out of the alcove and straight into the opposite wall. Renesmee followed, arms outstretched as if to steady her.
"Don't," Diana snapped, bile rising in her throat. "Don't touch me."
Renesmee halted, her hands pausing uncertainly in midair. Then, slowly, they lowered to her sides.
"Diana," she breathed miserably. "Please."
Diana didn't know what she was pleading for, and she no longer cared. Her pity and sympathy for the girl were gone.
"I said no."
She pushed herself upright against the wall and stumbled determinedly in the direction of Aro. Renesmee, mercifully, didn't follow. More than once Diana tottered, catching herself on the ancient stones for balance. The skin of her hands caught on the rough walls, tiny pinpricks of blood welling to the surface. She relished the sting. It grounded her, made the rolling nausea less pressing. When at last she reached the door to Aro's study, she half-fell inside without knocking.
Aro, seated at his desk, looked up in surprise—at the breach in etiquette, probably, since she usually knocked. He inhaled sharply, then went very still, dark eyes locked on her hands and the tiny smears of blood there.
Diana paid this no mind. She staggered the few feet between the door and Aro's desk, sank to her knees, and vomited into his waste paper basket.
She heaved three times, the acid stinging her nose and throat. Immediately after the first heave, cold fingers brushed her cheeks, gathering her hair and pulling it out of the way of her sick. Diana was distantly grateful that she'd fasted that morning, because the black coffee and bile was bad enough on its own without adding texture to the mix. When at last the heaving stopped, Aro's hands disappeared, and Diana knelt on the floor, her muscles trembling as she caught her breath.
Aro, hovering over her shoulder but keeping his hands carefully to himself, suggested, "Perhaps it would be best if you lay down for a while."
That was probably a good idea, but she was in no mood to entertain it. She shook her head, turning away from the waste basket full of sick to sit on the floor, back pressed against the solid wood of his desk. Aro's unblinking expression, she noticed, was an even mix of caution and concern.
Voice like gravel, she said, "I need you to explain what I just saw."
Aro's lips tugged down at the corners, unhappy, but nonetheless he nodded.
"The accusation that I deliberately eliminate covens so as to poach their gifted members is patently false," he said, his tone crisp and businesslike. "I have, on occasion, spared talented individuals whose lives would otherwise have been forfeit, but to characterize these instances as pardons is not accurate. Their service in the guard is still a punishment—community service, if you will, in lieu of death."
"Permanent community service?" Diana asked skeptically. Aro shook his head, one hand waving dismissively.
"A hundred years or so is the usual term. Enough time for them to show penance, and for us to be assured that they will not break the law again when they leave us," he explained. Then he added lightly, "Of course, many do elect to stay after their service is complete, but this is not surprising, considering the benefits. A home, a purpose, regularly delivered meals… these are not things most vampires are accustomed to."
Diana nodded slowly. "And Chelsea?"
"Is not omnipotent," Aro sighed. "If she were, you would not be asking these questions at all."
"So I have been affected." This was not a surprise, not really, but for some reason she still felt a small sting of betrayal to hear it confirmed.
"Would you not have done the same, in my position?" Aro said, frustratingly reasonable. "You were a liability at first, and now potentially a very valuable asset. Can you truly claim that you would not use every tool in your power to minimize the liability and maximize the return?"
She opened her mouth to say no. She couldn't claim that. She was a corporate lawyer, after all, she was literally in the business of minimizing liabilities and maximizing returns—she understood Aro's perspective all too well.
But then, that was precisely the problem.
"I don't know," she said finally. "I don't know if I can trust my own judgment."
Aro looked genuinely distressed by this pronouncement. Or perhaps he didn't—perhaps he was only feigning it, and Diana interpreted the expression as genuine because she was not in control of her own mind. Aro frowned, seemingly debating something, then nodded to himself.
"A moment."
He was gone in the blink of an eye. Alone in his study, Diana considered pushing herself off the floor and relocating to one of the comfortable leather armchairs, but ultimately decided against it. The press of cold stone against her legs was grounding.
Aro returned in less than a minute, followed by two others. Diana recognized Chelsea, looking coolly professional, and Marcus, looking like he would prefer to be anywhere else. Chelsea's presence made sense, she thought, but Marcus's puzzled her. Aro caught her expression.
"Marcus's gift allows him to see relationships, for lack of a better word," he explained. "Thus, he is the only one capable of observing directly the effects of Chelsea's gift. In the interest of transparency I've brought him along to testify as to what has been done, and its effects."
Diana blinked, absorbing this. "You realize I have no reason whatsoever to trust his testimony."
Aro wilted a little. "Yes, well. I must point out that your continued distrust demonstrates that Chelsea's gift is not nearly so powerful as the Cullens suspect." He looked to the woman in question. "Chelsea, dear, perhaps it is best if you describe it yourself."
Chelsea interlaced her fingers together and seemed to take a moment to choose her words carefully.
"Relationships," she said finally, "are like braided cords. A friendship may have trust, respect, annoyance and insecurity all woven together." Chelsea looked at her expectantly, and Diana nodded to indicate her understanding. "I can tighten or loosen the strands in these cords. And if a bond is already weak, I can untether it. But I cannot forge something from nothing," she stressed. "I can't make you feel something you don't already feel."
"Just more or less of it," Diana summarized. Chelsea nodded. Diana looked to Aro, then to Marcus. "How have I been influenced, then?"
Marcus was silent for long seconds, and though his eyes were fixed on Diana she got the sense he didn't truly see her. When he spoke, his voice was low and without inflection.
"You are reluctantly fond of Aro. You respect his dedication to the law and the preservation of humanity, and trust him to put these above all else. You feel kinship over your shared love of knowledge. Chelsea has nurtured these feelings."
This was not an analysis, nor an opinion. Marcus was simply reciting what he saw with all the enthusiasm that one might display while reading the list of ingredients on a shampoo bottle. He trudged on, not quite done.
"She has dulled your disgust with our diet and your anger over your sister's death. She has loosened your already weak emotional ties to your remaining human connections, and secured your moderate sense of duty towards mankind."
Marcus went still, evidently finished not only with talking, but also with breathing or doing anything else other than performing an uncanny impression of a marble statue. Diana looked towards Chelsea.
"Does that sound accurate?"
Chelsea nodded—not that Diana had expected anything less.
"Can you undo it?" Chelsea's eyes widened a fraction, and she looked uncertainly toward Aro. Diana, too, looked to Aro. Voice hard, she said, "I deserve to make an unbiased decision."
Aro nodded, silently conceding. A quick glance had Chelsea raising her hands, not to touch Diana but to pluck silently at invisible threads in the air, as if fiddling with an imaginary loom. Diana watched her work with no small amount of curiosity.
Then, glancing at Aro, she remarked, "You know, if you're truly dedicated to transparency, it seems only fair that I hear your side of this."
Aro nodded, once again conceding the point without argument. He turned to his brother once more, saying politely, "Marcus?"
Marcus turned his head only the few inches it took to look directly at Aro. He was still unsettlingly motionless, and as the silence stretched on she wondered if he'd even been paying enough attention to understand what Aro was asking. But then, abruptly, his head snapped forward again, his eyes tearing away from Aro and locking on her, and for once there was something other than emptiness in his gaze.
Diana couldn't help but shudder. The expression was not friendly.
"He views you as a sister."
Marcus said nothing else. Diana glanced at Aro uncertainly, wondering if this was it, and if so why this odd pronouncement warranted such a fixed stare. Aro, for his part, shifted very quickly from surprise to sorrowful understanding. Catching Diana's eye, Aro winced, then visibly braced himself.
"What Marcus means to say…" He paused, a single finger reaching out towards Marcus's motionless hand so hesitantly it was like he was expecting to be burned, and then yanking his hand back as quickly as if he truly had been. When he continued it seemed to take an enormous effort to keep his voice light. "...is that the sense of fondness and kinship is quite mutual. I have not had the pleasure of so likeminded a companion since Carlisle left us centuries ago, and I am—very keen, to keep you."
Diana stared, wondering. Why Aro was delivering this information instead of Marcus? What had Aro seen when he brushed Marcus's hand that hurt him so badly? And why were Marcus's eyes still fixed on her, as if measuring her and finding her utterly lacking?
Eventually Marcus spoke again, this time without prompting.
"She is not Didyme."
And then he was gone, vanished from the study in a blur of movement. Into the stunned silence left in his wake, Chelsea said quickly, "I've finished, Master Aro."
"Yes, thank you, Chelsea." Aro twitched his fingers dismissively and Chelsea, too, disappeared.
Diana turned to Aro, her eyebrows raised expectantly, awaiting an explanation for this odd behavior and who the Didyme she'd just been compared to was. Aro sighed wearily and then, to Diana's surprise, joined her on the floor, pressing his own back against the desk and regarding the empty doorway mournfully.
"Didyme was my sister," he said at last. "Marcus and Caius I call my brothers because that is what we have become over time, but Didyme was my sister by blood. I turned her myself, and I loved her very dearly."
He fell quiet—lost in memory, maybe. Diana waited.
"Marcus adored her, and they were happily wedded for over two millennia." He looked away from the empty doorway to meet Diana's eyes. "He has never recovered from her loss."
And neither had he. He didn't say it, but he didn't need to. It was evident in his expression that the loss of his sister still pained him keenly. And it was a pain Diana understood.
"I'm sorry."
She was, too. In the sudden absence of Chelsea's influence this whole situation felt suddenly both more tragic and more absurd. But it did appear to be true that her gift could only dial up or down feelings that already existed, because Diana still liked Aro, despite herself, and this was a grief they apparently shared.
"I admit there was a part of me that hoped perhaps the sheer novelty of you would inspire something in him, but—" Aro shook his head, releasing a disappointed sigh.
"He resents me?" Diana guessed.
"Oh, no," Aro said quickly. "I almost wish he would, since that would suggest he cared—but no. In truth I'm not entirely sure he even remembers your name. When he is forced to think about you at all, you are simply 'Not Didyme'."
That was… incredibly sad, and perhaps even a little insulting, but Diana would take indifference over animosity.
"If you have no further questions, I suggest we delay our negotiations for another day. And I think it's best that Carlisle checks on you." Diana looked at him blankly. Aro faltered, then amended weakly, "That is, if you do still wish to negotiate. I will understand completely if you do not."
The contract. Between Renesmee's mental assault, and then Chelsea and Marcus, she had forgotten why she'd come to Aro's study in the first place.
She was in no state to negotiate. She wasn't entirely sure she was even in a fit state to stagger back to the rooms Aro had prepared for her.
"Another day," she agreed.
