She lets out a tired laugh. “No. Not scary at all.”
“Good.” I let out a big yawn. I barely slept in the carriage on the way here, and it’s catching up to me now. “We should probably sleep,” I murmur against her hair.
“Probably,” she agrees, but she doesn’t move, and neither do I.
My hand traces lazy circles on her back, and I let my eyes drift closed. Sleep is already trying to tug me into its embrace.
“Poppy?” My voice is drowsy.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For asking me to come withyou. For...” I yawn again, then say on a sigh, “For letting me in. I don’t take it for granted.”
She scoots a bit closer to me, her body curling perfectly against mine. “Thank you for being worth letting in.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head, then smile against her hair.
Sleep takes me.
Chapter 32
Aric
I WAKE TO SUNLIGHT AND the unfamiliar weight of someone in my arms.
For a moment, I’m disoriented—this isn’t my dorm room, this isn’t my pillow—and then everything from last night comes rushing back, and I look down to find Poppy held in my arms.
She’s still asleep, curled against me with her head on my chest and one hand resting over my heart. Her hair is a mess, falling across her face, and her glasses are still on the bedside table where she left them last night. Without them, she looks different somehow. A bit softer.
I’m careful not to move, not wanting to wake her yet. I just want to stay here a little longer, memorizing this moment: the weight of her against me, the soft sound of her breathing, the way the morning light makes her lavender hair almost glow.
Last night was... amazing. And unexpected. I didn’t think anything was going to happen, letalone—
Nope. Too early for that.
I force myself to stop that train of thought before my body gets the wrong idea about what’s going on right now.
Poppy stirs against me, making a small sleepy sound. I run my fingers gently through her hair, careful not to snag on any tangles.
“Mm,” she murmurs, pressing closer. “What time is it?”
“Early,” I say quietly. “I think the sun just came up.”
She’s silent for a moment, and I wonder if she’s going to go back to sleep. But then she tilts her head up to look at me, squinting without her glasses.
“Hi,” she says, her voice still rough with sleep.
“Hi yourself.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “How’d you sleep?”
“Better after...” She trails off, pink rising in her cheeks. “After everything.”
“Yeah.” I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead. “Me too.”
We lie there in comfortable silence for a while, watching as the light brightens, turning the room a shade of warm gold as it sneaks around the curtains drawn over the window. I can hear the village waking up outside—the distant sound of a rooster, cart wheels on cobblestones, someone calling out a friendly greeting.
