None of them spoke for a long time. Lucian let the silence settle, because it wasn't empty, but warm. The mirrors stopped twinkling. They stood still, hopelessly fractured.
Eventually, Corvina stood up without the practiced elegance of a noblewoman. She sighed deeply, releasing decades of dissatisfaction to the air. She reached into her coat again, looking for something.
Is she getting another scroll? A scalpel, maybe? Or a warning letter?
He wouldn't have been surprised if she had pulled out a scalpel, in all honesty. It felt like he kept dealing with problem after problem, and some days Lucian just wanted to jam an icepick in his skull.
Instead, she surprised him once more. Corvina pulled out a patinaed leather pouch bound with three red cords.
Wordlessly, she handed it to him and sat back down.
"It's beautiful," Lucian commented as he stared at the deeply tanned leather.
"Thank you. The patina stopped the day I died."
He opened it carefully and found rite tools.
