Chapter 14: Elara and Aldric, Alone in the Armory

The armory was not on any route Elizabeth had planned to take.

This was the problem with servant passages that ran in useful directions — they were also connected, through the pragmatic geometry of builders who thought in terms of load-bearing walls rather than political propriety, to rooms one had no intention of entering. She had taken Mira's third turning correctly, she was certain of it: south, then down seven steps, then left at the junction where the plaster showed a water stain shaped like an outstretched hand. Left. She had gone left.

The armory smelled of oil and iron and something underneath both — the damp, specific cold of stone that had spent centuries absorbing the sweat of men who worked hard things with their hands. The smell hit her before her eyes had finished adjusting to the torchlight, and she registered it precisely one heartbeat before she registered the man already inside.