Those who build walls are their own prisoners.
Ursula K. Le Guin
Piper woke slowly, in that hazy way one does on a winter weekend when one has snuggled deep into the blankets. Bright, clear sunlight bathed the room and bed in stark pale colors, washing everything out and making it feel surreal.
She blinked and studied the bed hangings and the dying fire in the fireplace. Where was she? Bit by bit, memories of last night came back to her. She winced as she realized it hadn't been a wild and fantastical dream. She was really in Mikhail Barinov's house in Cornwall and had been forced into helping him steal the Cheapside treasure trove.
It took her a few seconds longer to realize she was in a warm bed, but not the bed she'd gone to sleep in. She whipped her head up as soon as she recogniz
