GUINEVERE'S CHAMBERS
Everything in this room was white. Couch. Ottoman. Hearth. Rug. Bed. And pillows everywhere. Small ones, long ones, square ones, ones that served no purpose other than existing.
But the bookshelves were what gave him pause. Floor to ceiling on multiple walls with hundreds of titles, alphabetized and organized by language.
Kael laid her on the bed face-down, carefully, his hands slower than they'd been all night. She didn't stir.
He stood over her for three seconds longer than necessary. The silk pajama top was shredded across her back, the fabric hanging in strips that framed the lacerations underneath. Her white hair was fanned across the pillow, still damp, still half-frozen at the ends. Her waist was narrow enough that his hand could have spanned it. He noticed that. Told his dragon to shut up about it.
Three seconds. Then Kael was on the bed next to her. He pulled her on top of him so her back was not touching anything.
