This chamber is a little wedge-shaped room, completely unremarkable but very clean. It’s small, with room for a bed and a little table and a wardrobe, but not much else. There is a narrow window of thick, slightly warped glass in the curving outer wall with a pleasant view of the castle pastures: rolling green, with a glimpse of the lake and waterfall beyond.
Several herb-packets and bottles share space on the top shelf of the wardrobe with a pair of unusual gloves, and a rather battered leather satchel hangs over the back of the chair.
Reina taps tentatively on Lanisen’s door, glancing over her shoulder as she does so. “Lanny? It’s Reina. May I come in? I won’t stay long,” a small voice calls.
There is silence from Lanisen’s room for a moment. Then the lock clicks, and the door opens a little, enough for him to look out.
Reina glances surreptitiously over her shoulder, then gives him a tentative smile. “May I come in?” She holds up a sheet of paper. “I think we’re long overdue for a game, don’t you?” She gazes at his face, but her expression does not change at the sight of his fading bruises. She does not seem uncomfortable or pitying in the least, or so she hopes.