There were, at the very least, not literal traps between the Solar in the back left of the downstairs and Senga’s room in the middle right of the upstairs, or at least not new ones. Senga found that she was holding Erramun’s hand, and she found that he was holding very firmly to that hand.
She closed the door behind them and locked it. She turned to look at him as he released her hand and dropped to his knees in the middle of her sitting room. “Mistress.” His voice sounded rusty; it hitched in the middle of the word.
“Erramun.” She needed a manual for this. Aunt Mirabella had clearly not seen fit to provide her with all of the things that she needed for this endeavor. If it turned out she wasn’t really dead, Senga was going to have come very stern words with her. Continue reading