Roland couldn't sleep, so he stepped out onto the balcony without his overcoat and stood there until his fingers went completely numb.
Light snow drifted down as usual, and below him, the castle courtyard glowed a warm orange from the fire barrels surrounding the twelve sleeping dragons. From one corner, a long, rumbling snore vibrated through the hay. From another, Ignis let out a tiny sneeze—just once—and a knee-high burst of flame caused absolutely everyone within earshot to hold their breath for three full seconds before the crackle finally died down.
"Don't just stand out there," a deadpan voice called out from behind him. "You're going to freeze."
Rianor stood in the doorway wrapped in a heavy mantle, holding a small wooden box. His glasses were fogged up, and he stared at Roland with the distinct expression of a man who had been drafting his speech the entire walk down from the upper floors.
"I have something for you," he announced.
