The scent of crushed herbs and fresh fruits; the warmth of a room with a fireplace; the silken feeling of clean bed covers under me; the sound of soft breathing reaching my sharp ears. Slowly, I opened my eyes and gave them time to adjust to the dim orange light.
There was a chandelier above me, casting warm tones the shade of fire around the room, and another soft glow coming from my left.
I blinked, and moved my head to the side.
“Ophelia?” He asked, rising from the wooden chair he had been seated heavily in; his fingers tangled in his dark hair, and long legs stretched on top of the table crowded with papers. “You’re awake...” he said, shuffling closer to stand at the edge of the bed, his voice thick with sleep like he had been dozing just moments ago.
I sat up; the covers sliding a
