The moonlight trickled in through the curtains, draping the room in a serene, silver veil. Iyana lay beside Vyan, her elbow propped on the pillow, watching his chest rise and fall in rhythmic breaths.
His fever had finally broken, but every so often, a cough would escape his lips, causing a faint flicker of worry in her gaze.
Her eyes traced the contours of his face, the strong lines softened in the stillness of sleep. The steady rhythm of his breathing was a comfort to her, despite her mind not being able to shake off what she had learned today.
Though she appreciated the calming effect of his presence, she had been absolutely set on sending him home. But, in typical fashion, his stubborn streak kicked in, and he refused to budge.
She had only yielded after his wry declaration, "I am not completely stupid," when he revealed the magical artifact nestled beneath his coat—a direct link to Clyde in case trouble stirred.
