The iron carriage wheels rattled over the uneven granite paving before finally coming to a halt in the secluded courtyard behind the Golden Griffin Inn.
Hajin eased himself down the carriage steps with cautious care, cradling his splinted right arm against his ribs as the night breeze whispered through the courtyard gables.
After bidding Didi a quiet farewell in the carriage shadow, the party ascended the narrow rear staircase toward their private top-floor suite overlooking the sleeping capital.
Loccy kicked off her travel shoes the instant the door clicked shut, collapsing onto the cushioned velvet sofa with an exaggerated groan of relief.
"My shoulders feel like someone dropped a siege wagon on top of them," she grumbled into a down pillow, stretching her arms above her head with weary abandon.
