Roman
"Say the word 'ritual chamber' one more time like it's a normal sentence," I said, "and I'm going to lose it."
Morgan didn't even look up from his laptop. "Would you prefer I use smaller words? Big scary basement. Bad magic happens there. Better?"
I dragged a hand down my face and stared at the crude blueprint he'd pulled together from fragments of intercepted messages, half of it guesswork stitched together from supply orders and construction permits nobody was supposed to notice. Stone reinforcement. A room built below the estate's east wing, tucked far enough from the main house that servants wouldn't hear whatever happened down there.
"We don't know what it's for," Morgan said, finally glancing up. "Could be storage. Could be a wine cellar with delusions of grandeur."
"Wine
