Night settled over the manor in a long quiet breath, every lamp in every hall turned low. Hajin sat cross-legged on the floor of the great hall, staring at the scars across his knuckles.
Somewhere beyond the ridge the Marshal's drums began a slow beat, counting down the hours to midnight.
He kept seeing Malor's astonished face and Kenny's split lip, thirty graves lined up on the western slope. The ache sat under his ribs like a smooth river stone that refused to sink into the silt.
'Eight days. I walked in here with a bad title and a mouthy household, now I'm burying people.'
"You are hesitating, Hajin, the statistics suggest this is unusual," Aria said, her voice drifting out of the dark beside him.
"I'm not hesitating, I'm tired," he said, rubbing his eyes with the heel of one hand.
"The two states look identical from the outside, I have compared the footage."
