Ren waited.
She stood in the corner of the King's Nest for twenty minutes, watching Syris. The Snake King had finally succumbed to the "carb coma."
He was sprawled on the furs, his breathing deep and rhythmic. His tail—which had fully materialized now that he was unconscious—twitched occasionally, the black scales shimmering in the dim light.
"Okay," Ren whispered. "Operation 'Get the Hell Out of Dodge' is a go."
She tiptoed toward the massive obsidian doors. Her boots were quiet on the stone floor, thanks to the thick layer of moss that grew in the cracks.
She reached the handle. It was cold and shaped like a snake's head.
She pushed.
Creak.
The door groaned. Ren froze, looking back at the bed.
Syris mumbled something about "warmth" and rolled over, hugging the pillow she had vacated.
"Sucker," Ren breathed.
She slipped through the crack and into the hallway.
