Comfort. Warmth. Sturdy, clean-smelling sheets. It was still dark out.
I sat up with a start.
Silence, or nearly so. I blinked and rubbed my eyes.
The room was simple, sparse, nondescript, like a hotel room. And yet two things were immediately apparent: The shower was running—or had been, for I could now hear the sound of taps turning; and my armor and weapons were gone.
Not just removed—not, say, draped over a nearby chair—but gone, vanished. Vanished and replaced with ...
I rubbed the silken material of the tunic between my fingers. Whatever this was.
I threw off the blankets and stood even as the bathroom door opened and a woman wrapped in a towel stepped out—and immediately froze, as though she’d been unprepared for what she saw. “Oh, my,” she said.
“Oh, my?” I must have looked
