I've already given Mr. Peterson his bath and changed his bedding before the "accident," so pretty much all I have to do is mop up the urine on the flo...r. Careful not to step in the puddle with my bare feet, I take the mop and run it back and forth across the floor, the motion making my unrestrained breasts swing with each push, my nipples hard in the cool air. I'm surprised at how good it feels.As I bend down to pick up the broken urine bag from where I'd dropped it, I feel the top's hem riding. Karajan wants specifics.The thought of his hands and shoulders and his knife brings me closer.... “Karajan, I mean it. I love you! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”Karajan grabs my throat with with left hand and squeezes like he means it this time. The knife he is holding in his right hand punctures my throat. He is going through with it. I am about to die, I know it. “Yes! I deserve it!” I try to say, but no sound comes out. The sparse candlelit room fades to. There was sweat on his brow from the tension. The Castellan exited the chamber, still with an unnatural look on his face, as if he suspected that something was wrong but had no proof. I immediately expanded the wards that I was using to cover the walls, floor and ceiling of the room."Very good, Master Fiacha. Let us have our meal now," I told him, and we all moved over to the table. I easily called all of the knives left there for the meal to me before we reached the table."I'll keep these. I. To his surprise, it appeared to emanate from just beyond the shoulder of the hill no more than twenty yards upslope. Now that he had been in the dark for some time, his vision had adjusted, and in the diffuse reflection, he thought he saw a relatively stable route up the edge of the mudslide, that with the help of the dangling fence wire, might get him to the top of the steep, muddy slope... Glancing upward occasionally to keep his bearings on the dimly glowing beacon, he threaded his way past.