The next day

The light slipped in soft and golden, painting lines across the sheets, dust motes swirling through the air. I blinked awake, the world fuzzy and too-bright, my body heavy with exhaustion and a sweetness I'd never known before.

The room was quiet but not silent—birds outside the window, the distant hush of castle life beginning its day, the faintest sound of Isolde's slow, even breaths beside me.

My arm was draped over her waist. My face was buried in her hair, wild and silver in the morning light.

We were both naked beneath the covers, tangled together in a mess of limbs and heat.

For a moment, I just lay there, afraid to move, afraid to break the fragile peace that had settled over us in the darkness.

Then it all rushed back, memory and sensation colliding: her mouth on mine, her hands clutching at my back, the desperate, beautiful sound of her voice as she came undone for me.