Eiravyne didn't even remember when sleep took her—only that his warmth had wrapped around her like a lullaby.
When she woke again, the sky outside had shifted to the soft golds and shadows of late afternoon, painting the room in a hushed glow.
Urag was still there.
But now… he was the one nestled against her.
His head rested just below her collarbone, one arm draped across her waist as though to anchor himself to her even in sleep.
His breath was steady, warm against her skin, his brow relaxed .
He looked unburdened.
She had seen him like this before—countless times.
As a boy, after long days spent being abused and exploited by her mother, he'd collapse beside her just like this.
Head tucked under her chin. Arm slung around her like she was something worth guarding.
Even then, he'd always ended up here—seeking her warmth in sleep, as if drawn by instinct.
And now… years later, with pain and distance between them, he still returned to this place.
To her.
