In the middle of the night, Eilika stirred awake because of her parched throat. She propped herself up on her elbows and reached for the silver water jar on the bedside table only to find it was empty.
With her half-lidded eyes, she slipped out of the room. The cottage was silent as she navigated the dim hallway toward the kitchen. After filling the jar and drinking the water, she went back to the bedroom.
As she crossed the living room, a shadow shifted near the hearth. Her heart leapt into her throat for a second, before she realized the silhouette belonged to Damian. He was slumped in the upholstered chair.
Eilika reached out to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Damian," she whispered, "what are you doing here at this hour?"
When he didn't respond, Eilika stepped around the chair to face him. He was staring into the dying embers of the fireplace, his eyes devoid of warmth, replaced by an emotion she couldn't read.
