I swam through blackness to the swirling consciousness of having been drugged and opened my eyes to the flower-patterned stippled ceiling of an apartment that had been built in the late twentieth century. My brain clicked back online with the thought that they really didn"t make ceilings like they used to. The crown molding of the Georgian and Victorian eras had been the height of wasteful extravagance…
Wait, why was I thinking about ceilings?
A low rumbling caught my attention, Grand-Pied"s deep voice.
“I didn"t mean to get caught up in this matter,” he was mumbling. “I don"t want to be, but I have a responsibility. Or feel like I do.”
A pause.
“What? Why would bringing him to his ladylove do that? Do you have no sense of compassion?”
Another pause. Who was he speaking with?
“No, I
