Luna went down easily.
Frost took twenty minutes, three sips of water, one request for a story about a dragon who was also a baker, and a negotiation over whether his tail counted as a blanket, which it did not, and then finally, finally, the pale flutter of his lashes stilled against his cheeks and his frost magic went dormant, leaving tiny melting crystals on the pillowcase like scattered stars.
Felicity stood in the doorway between their rooms for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of two small chests. Luna's white curls had already spread across her pillow in a halo. Frost's fluffy tail had migrated to cover his nose despite the ruling.
She let out a long, quiet breath through her nose and pulled both doors to.
The hallway was warm and dim and smelled like cedar and iron and the particular charged quality the air always took on when her husbands had been stationary for too long and were thinking too hard.
She noticed that before she even reached the bedroom door.
