Back in her apartment, Irenya found the rooms still untidy, last night’s ashes in the grate and the place freezing. She knelt in front of the fireplace and sighed. Sirani’s in a world of her own these days.
A thought struck her. My mobile phone. It should have been in the bag. I might have been able to get a signal, call David. She rocked back on her heels, her mind reeling. Fantasies blossomed: David answering, his voice husky with the flu. Or yelling at her, demanding to know where she was, then his incredulity, his disbelief… The scripts became progressively darker. What will I tell him?
‘Frankly, I hope I don’t remember anything of this place,’ she had told Elaaron. ‘If I do, I’ll have to lie to David. No one will believe that Dar Orien exists. They’ll think there’s something wrong w
