A Night of Rest and Compromise

By the time Luke and Ilyrana returned to the cathedral, exhaustion had fully settled in. The night air was cool, and the streets were silent, save for the occasional distant chatter of guards patrolling the walls. This was a stark contrast to the earlier conversation with King Alf, one filled with revelations and the promise of an important meeting tomorrow.

Neither of them wasted time lingering in the halls of the cathedral. Father Wingate had already prepared their sleeping arrangements, just like last time. He had again offered his room, choosing instead to bunk with the boys.

And so, Luke and Ilyrana found themselves in the modest chamber, dimly lit by the faint moonlight seeping through the window. However, there was one problem.

A single bed.

Luke sighed, rubbing his temple.

"Of course. I should've seen this coming."

Ilyrana, arms crossed, tilted her head.

"You take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor."