I woke to the novelty of creaking bed springs, and the smell of white jasmine hanging in the air. Linka"s svelte form slipped from my grasp and wandered over to the curtained window of her bedroom. She toyed with the material, running it between her fingers, before throwing back the drapes with such ferocity I thought they may fly off the rail. She seemed unbothered that anyone may see her bereft of clothing.
“Linka, should you not cover yourself? I don"t think it"s wise to push your father"s tolerance of my being here.”
“I"ve been hidden away too long to care.”
Her soft-spoken words were as a ghost haunting the limits of my senses. She rested her forehead on the window and breathed on the glass. As with all our kind it left no residue.
I slipped from the enormous bed, more a small lan
