The fire had gone low.
She had not noticed. That was the first sign that something was wrong.... Vivienne noticed everything, had trained herself to notice everything, had spent three years building the habit of environmental awareness into something close to reflex. The fire going low without her registering it meant she had been somewhere else for longer than she had thought.
She was still at her desk.
Eleanor had left an hour ago.... or what felt like an hour, though the light through the north windows suggested it might have been longer. The supply ledger was closed now. She had finished it. She had written the notation about the northern grain estimate and worked through the rest of the columns with the steady mechanical competence that did not require her full mind, only her hands, and had closed it when she was done, and had sat back in the chair, and had apparently been sitting here ever since.
Thinking.
