Chapter 90

The only light in the sickroom came from the few torches set far away from the beds, and the light of the moon spilling in through the window. Yehan was sleeping on his stomach with his head pillowed on his folded arms. His wings were partly open, looking like shadows in the dark. His body was a solid strip of warmth all along Tarquin’s side.

They’d thrown the blankets off, but between Yehan’s body heat and the constant fire in the sickroom hearth, Tarquin was marvelously comfortable.

He lifted himself on his bent arm and watched Yehan sleep, how his wings rose and fell with his breathing. Yehan’s naked back and his tail and even his leggings were covered in wing scales, like Tarquin, the bed, and nearly everything around them. His hair and skin sparkled under the moon as if he’d been dappled with stars. He was incredibly beautiful.