The Broken Fever

When the fever finally broke, and she opened her eyes again, the first thing she noticed was that the window was open and sunlight was spilling across her bed.

And the second was that Prince Donnchadh was in her bed, sleeping, as she cuddled in against his shoulder, the blankets over the two of them.

The third thing was that the man's hand was in her hair, and she was laying with him, one arm draped over him like a heavy, too-hot blanket, her face tucked into his side like she belonged there or something, which she knew was absolutely untrue, because.

Well, for one.

He hated her.

For two, even if he didn't, he was way too dangerous and terrifying. And for three...

They weren't in love.

Or. Really in anything. There was nothing between them, really. Except the fact they'd had to marry. But even then, they'd not consummated their union or done any sort of lovey-dovey nonsense with one another or...