Morning came soft and golden. The sun rose over the peaks, painting the snow in shades of rose and amber. The tent was warm, the blankets soft, and Artemia lay curled against Alex's chest, her blue hair spilling across his arm like a silken river. Her breathing was slow and deep, her face peaceful in sleep.
He did not move. He simply watched her, memorizing the way her lashes rested against her cheeks, the faint smile that curved her lips even in dreams. She was beautiful. She had always been beautiful. But in this moment, with the morning light touching her skin, she was something more.
She stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. A smile spread across her face, slow and warm.
"Good morning," she murmured.
"Good morning."
She stretched, a languid movement that spoke of contentment. Then she reached up and touched his face, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
"What do you want to do today?" she asked.
