The chamber was hushed, lit only by the low, amber glow of a single brazier in the corner. Shadows danced lazily across the carved bedposts and the heavy silk hangings that draped the walls like midnight veils.
Ashen lay on his back in the center of the wide bed, one arm flung above his head, the other resting across his bare chest.
The sheet had slipped low on his hips during sleep, revealing the hard planes of his abdomen and the faint scars that mapped his warrior's body marks from training, from battles he never spoke of, from the dragon blood that still simmered beneath his skin even in repose.
His hair spilled across the pillow, lips slightly parted, breaths deep and even. For once, the tension that usually carved lines around his eyes and mouth had smoothed away. He looked younger and almost vulnerable.
Lumina stood at the foot of the bed, watching him.
She had shed her outer robe earlier, leaving only the thin, moon-white chemise that clung to her like mist.
