The flames were slowly dying as they spread their dim crimson shadows across the cold room.
Nesrin and Izekiel shared the small worn-out bed, and though the blankets of fur should have been enough for the night, they helped little as the day faded into darkness and the winds of frost seeped through the gaps of the broken cottage.
She blinked her sleepless eyes and glanced at Izekiel. He probably felt none of the cold since he was perfectly able to fend off the chill even when everything was covered in ice and snow.
Her numb fingers curled together as her eyes halted over him.
Izekiel appeared to be calmly sleeping. Though she had yet to understand the shift of his aura, Nesrin concluded that the recent events must have taken a toll on him. He always appeared to be occupied, and though his flawless handsomeness never flickered, she had noticed the traces of tiredness in his gaze.
