CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The next morning, the bird’s call startles Sarah from her trance of staring at the canopy since she woke from her dream last night. The bird pecks the window open, dropping a blue wax-sealed roll of papers. She sits up in the bed, stretching, and yawns. Picking up the roll, she opens it only to roll it back up. Daft Elephimaic.
Peter rolls onto his stomach, letting out a loud, short snore, and goes back to normal sleep.
Sarah rolls over to him and pushes his shoulder.
Peter doesn't move.
Sarah pokes his side until he groans. "It's time to get up. You don't want to be late for the Tournaments Fair, do you?" She leans over, getting right next to his ear, and blows over it, still poking under his arm.
Peter groans again, swatting away her finger.
Sarah gets out of b
