On the morning after her wedding, Eurydice awakened early. On this day, though, instead of writing or reading, she remained in bed and watched Sebastian sleep. He looked younger in slumber, his hair tousled and his breathing slow. She felt the most curious sensation in the region of her heart, gratitude mixed with yet more, for he had been a gentle yet passionate lover. He had ensured her pleasure first and been patient with her ignorance, and it had seemed to her that something marvelous had dawned between them. It felt tentative and precious, as fragile as a butterfly—and in truth, it had been dismissed all too quickly.
She had to repair the matter, somehow.
Eurydice studied Sebastian and wished she could read his thoughts and divine his secrets. She was not sufficiently bold to awaken
