Chapter Twenty-Three
But I do. Or at least I believe so. I rouse so gently from my slumber, there is not even a need to open my eyes. I feel warm and rested, no sense of alarm even though I can tell I am not alone in the room. It is perhaps what my body had me wake for. As with the sleep demon, my mind is accepting of what is to happen, maybe somehow even in collusion with it, so there is no panic.
The aroma of witches has gone. Sweet spice has replaced it: a comforting, manly smell. I can hear his breathing. For some reason the prince does it through his mouth, not his nose. It strikes me as feral. It reminds me of a wolf upon its captured prey, just allowing its heart to calm and the final exertion of the chase to clear its lungs before it sinks its teeth in. I have never wanted to be
