I wake up with a headache.
I open my eyes. It's daytime, but the room is dark. Someone closed the curtains. I'm still in the mating dress, the only difference is it's torn. I move to touch it and groan with disappointment.
"I'll have to apologize for that," Cyran says beside me. "I couldn't get my hands on you fast enough."
He's lying down and smiling. For a moment, it's like I see a glimpse of the old him. I want to smile at him, but I think it's best if I watch myself. For now, at least. I don't want to get ahead of myself.
"I'll have it fixed," he assures me.
I try to sit up, but my head. Ugh, it's pounding. What happened last night? Did I bang my head on the headrest? He tells me, "You were sleepwalking last night."
I frown. "What? Really?"
"I didn't know you were a somnambulist."
"I'm not," I say, confused. "Even as a child. I was prone to having nightmares, so bad I'd wet the bed sometimes. But sleepwalking, no."
