Lysandra was silent, her graceful gait
heavier with each step they descended.
“Breakfast?” Aedion asked as they neared
the bottom.
A nod. The eggs and cured meats had given
way to gruel and hot broth. Two nights ago,
Lysandra had flown off in wyvern form after
the fighting had ceased for the day, and
returned an hour later with a hart clutched in
each taloned foot.
That precious meat had been gone too
soon.
They hit the bottom of the tower stairwell,
and Aedion made to aim for the dining hall
when she stopped him with a hand on his arm.
In the dimness, he turned toward her.
But Lysandra, that beautiful face so tired,
only slid her arms around his waist and
pressed her head to his chest. She leaned
enough of her weight into him that Aedion set
lily
(lily)
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