Barely an hour had passed before Airam's eyes snapped open.
For a moment, she did not move.
The room lay in near darkness, the single oil lamp having burned low beside the bed. Rain tapped faintly against the window. Ulrich slept beside her, or perhaps he had merely fallen into a heavy, logical slumber. His breathing was shallow. His face remained pale against the pillow, crimson hair damp across his brow.
Then Airam heard it again.
Whispers.
Several voices, muffled by the door but close enough that she could make out the shifting weight of bodies in the corridor. Floorboards creaked. Someone gave a short, ugly laugh, quickly smothered.
Airam sat upright.
Her gaze fixed on the door.
A soft metallic click came from the lock.
The handle moved once.
Then again.
The keyhole gave a faint scrape as something narrow and hard was forced into it from the other side.
Airam glanced at Ulrich.
