The embers of the fire were still gently flickering, casting long diagonal shadows.
Sif curled up in the thick quilt, lying on her side, quietly watching the man sleeping beside her.
Louis's breathing was steady, his brows relaxed, his sleeping face handsome, unlike the noble who always seemed full of thoughts.
His black hair was slightly disheveled, clinging to his forehead, with long eyelashes casting faint shadows in the firelight.
In his sleep, his boyish looks were heart-pounding.
Sif was somewhat entranced, the corners of her mouth gently curved, her eyes filled with indescribable satisfaction and tenderness.
She gently brushed his nose with her fingers, then quickly pulled back, like a mischievous child.
But her smile didn't last long; her gaze gradually dimmed.
The shadow of her past quietly reemerged in her mind, like a heavy storm pressing upon her heart on a snowy night.
