Chapter Twenty-Five
November 20th, 1808
Bristol
Icarus drifted awake. He blinked his eyes drowsily open, saw a bedchamber and faint light creeping through chintz curtains, and closed his eyelids again, sinking back into warm, lingering contentment, sliding back towards sleep. The sound of his door quietly opening caught his attention.
Icarus reluctantly opened his eyes again.
Green peered around the door. The young man’s face lit up. He advanced into the room, a steaming ewer in his hands. “You’re awake, sir!”
Regretfully, Icarus abandoned thought of sleeping again. He levered himself up to sitting, and yawned. He felt deliciously relaxed, deliciously rested. He rubbed his face, raked his hands through his hair, yawned again. “What time is it?”
“Half past eleven, sir,” Green said, p
