She gazed up at Myron. He smiled down at her.
“We've arrived,” Myron announced. “Did you have a nice nap? I had to hold on to you, the road was rather rough. Didn't want you falling to the floor.”
“Oh, yes,” she said. Clearing her throat, she added, “Thank you.” She looked across at Doreen. She was gazing out the window, looking up at something that made her brow furrow.
“I see they've put up the banners again,” Doreen said. “These look nicer.”
“The dragon?” Myron said, squinting out the window and up. Zofia recalled that the deep resonating sound of Myron's voice was what had actually helped lull her to sleep as the two conversed about everything from wine, to werewolves, to candles and popular books.
“Yes. That's Count Saint Germain's coat of arms,” she said with her usual chuckle a
