Chapter 452: The Rooms Above the Hart
Lyria's POV
The further upstairs we climbed, the more dust I observed.
It lay thick upon the banister, gathered in the corners of each step, and had settled over the floorboards in a fine grey film. Even the air seemed laden with it, stirred by our passage and catching what little light strayed up from the candles below. The walls were no better; they had darkened with age in places, and several corners bore the unmistakable marks of having been left unattended for some considerable time.
I wondered whether the inn had been in operation at all of late.
The woman had claimed to own it, had she not? Yet everything about the upper floor spoke of long neglect. There was no bustle of servants, no murmur of other guests, no clatter of dishes nor tread of footsteps overhead. The Wandering Hart seemed less an inn awaiting travellers than a house reluctantly unlocked after a long season of disuse.
I had questions I wished to ask.
