Chapter 15Lorre slept, or half-slept, most of the night and half of the following day. He hadn’t meant to, and he was surprised about it.
He lay curled into Gareth’s bed, languid, drifting in and out. Gareth had lit the fire, or someone had; heat kept the room snug and cozy, and thick blankets lay over him with affirming homespun weight, and Gareth sat with him, beside him, not leaving him.
Lorre, protected amid pillows, felt the mattress beneath him and the weave of welcoming bedclothes and his own velvet robe against his skin. He was aware of the leap of flames, and the steam of a teacup; he heard the rustle as Gareth turned the page of a book, and the low even rumble of Gareth’s voice, reading to him or talking to him or quietly speaking to other people. Dan came by, and the queen mot
