I’m not sure how much longer we sit there, but it feels late by the time that Callum walks me back to my chambers.
“Thank you for earlier,” he says. “What you did for Ryan. . . I appreciate it.”
“It was nothing,” I say, embarrassed by the emotion blazing in his eyes.
“No. It wasn’t.”
Callum follows me into my room. Someone has been here in my absence, and lit the candles on the desk and the bedside table. They emit a soft glow, and flick shadows over the books and the small bed. They do nothing to fight the cold, though. My breath plumes in front of my face.
It has been a long day, and the adrenaline that was pumping through my body earlier has desisted—leaving me with aching limbs and heavy eyelids.
“Let me help,” says Callum.
“What?”
He stands awkwardly beside the bookshelf. His
