Neve finally got to the cave after being carried all through the walk by Cael. He hit the bed and let out a groan.
Not in pain. In relief. The specific sound of a body that had been through an entire festival evening, including a dragon king, a public kiss, Isabella serving soup on her knees, a dragon talon, and being carried home on a leopard's shoulder, finally made contact with a mattress.
He stared at the ceiling.
The lamp on the bedside drawer glowed steadily and warmly. Snow was falling outside. He could hear it in the particular silence that heavy snow created, the world going muffled and soft beyond the cave walls.
He had deliberately left the talon with Kael. It was heavy, and he needed an excuse to have that conversation about where exactly Kael was going to be living, what the arrangements were going to look like and how he was going to explain it to Cael without starting a territorial incident.
Tomorrow. That was a tomorrow problem. Not today. He needed to rest.
