Adan went back to the bedroom and finished spreading out the half-made quilt. The duvet cover was a plain gray-blue, not a single pattern on it, carrying a faint scent of osmanthus—the same fragrance as the sachets in the wardrobe.
Once the quilt was laid out, since the Imperial City was already turning cold at the end of November, Adan opened the window, curled up under the covers, and lay there with her eyes open, waiting for Marcus Quinn to come back. She'd grown used to having the man beside her; now, sleeping alone, the bed felt inexplicably cold and empty.
Waiting and waiting, she dozed off in a fog. Maybe it was the new place, maybe it was the unease in her heart—she fell into one dream after another.
