Warmth. That was the first thing Etien felt as his eyelids slowly fluttered open.
Pain crept through every inch of his body, dull, but sharp in places. Still, something softened it. Glen's palm cradled his head, magic pulsing gently from his touch, easing the tension in Etien's stiff muscles.
Etien blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Glen's room. He was still here, asleep for who knows how long. Thick black-and-gold curtains sealed off the massive window, letting in only a sliver of late-afternoon sun.
The air was warm, not just from Glen's magic, but from the roaring fireplace in the corner. Flames cast flickers of light across the carved blackwood furniture: a desk buried in papers, a tall-backed chair, and bookshelves lining the right wall. Etien couldn't help but wonder what Glen was trying to piece together with all that.
