The air in the Great Solar had changed. It no longer carried the sterile, metallic chill of a fortress under siege; it smelled of damp earth and the sweet, resinous scent of the cedar beams Malphas had hoisted into place. Outside, the Northern winter continued its relentless assault on the stone, but inside the master suite, the fire burned with a steady, amber defiance.
Nyx lay in the center of the furs, her hands resting over her heart. To her left, Vane’s breathing was a slow, rhythmic tide; to her right, Malphas was a mountain of radiant heat. At the foot of the bed, Caspian remained awake for a moment longer, his silver eyes tracing the patterns of frost on the glass as if he were memorizing the world before it dissolved again.
The "Nice Dreams" did not wait for deep REM sleep anymo
