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Dawn was not too far off when a warm body
slid beside his.
Dorian said into the darkness, “Three to a
tent isn’t too comfortable, is it?”
“I didn’t come back because I agree with
you.” Manon yanked the blankets over herself.
Dorian smiled slightly, and fell asleep once
more, letting his magic warm them both.
When they awoke, something sharp in his
chest had dulled—just a fraction.
But Manon was frowning down at him.
Dorian sat up, groaning as he stretched his
arms as far as the tent would allow. “What is
it?” he asked when her brow remained
furrowed.
Manon pulled on her boots, then her cape.
“Your eyes are brown.”
He lifted a hand to his face, but she was
already gone.