Julian approached it like a hunter stalking prey.
He knelt on the hard stone floor. A sharp hiss escaped his teeth as his abused hips protested the angle, but he ignored the pain. Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, he withdrew a slender, custom-forged metal pin. It was a leftover trinket from his days dealing with the underworld, a tool he never thought he would use inside his own wife's sanctuary.
He slid the pin into the first brass keyhole.
The lock was intricate. Knights engineering, likely. He pressed his ear close to the wood, twisting the thin metal, waiting for the familiar click of a tumbler falling into place.
Nothing.
The mechanism was rigid, refusing to yield to his subtle pressure. Julian adjusted his grip, his palms starting to sweat despite the freezing draft in the massive room. He jiggled the pin, applying a bit more force.
A tiny, metallic snap echoed, followed by the lock resetting itself.
