Cynthia picked up her phone.“Miss Carson, Mr. Darvy is here now,” the assistant said in her small voice.“Send him in,” she replied, hanging up...She stood up and straightened her clothing—a white, frilly, button-up, sleeveless blouse, a grey pencil skirt, and some simple black heels.She heard a knock on her door. The assistant opened the door as he entered the room. Tall, dark hair, his brooding eyes focusing on Cynthia.“Cynthia! You seem to be doing well for someone who is losing. The goddess was chanting a simple prayer in Sumarian, a dead language she was certain no one around her would understand. It was the chanting that was important, not the understanding. The understanding would come later. Where she stood was important to the understanding. Before her was the blackened lamppost where the Lady Sarah had been executed.'Are you ready, Chief?' Princess Béla asked, projecting her thoughts up to the Bridge Officer of the great ship, high above.'Almost, Princess, ' the. More

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