Days passed in a state of tense anticipation. The estate moved with its usual clockwork precision, but beneath the surface, a current of anticipation flowed. I knew Roric, Lady Verne's messenger, was on his way. The game was afoot, but the board was quiet for now. That quiet was its own kind of torment.
I found myself in the library, a cavernous room that smelled of leather and time. I wasn't really reading. I was trying to lose myself in the histories of long-dead kings, hoping to find some parallel for the impossible situation I was in. I was a transmigrator in a noble's body, married to the most dangerous man in the kingdom, and currently plotting the downfall of a lord with the help of a silk merchant. History had nothing on me.
The soft click of the door closing pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see Seraphina entering. She moved with an unnerving grace, her steps making no sound on the thick carpet. She carried a single book in her hands.
