Moonlight spilled through the tall glass windows of Philia's private chambers, falling across the heavy velvet draperies of the master bed. The room was quiet and still, while the chill of autumn lingered beyond the windows.
Yerel lay resting on his side, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. He had shed his heavy royal doublet and leather belt hours ago, wearing only a loose linen sleep tunic that hung open at his throat.
Beside him, Philia moved with careful stillness. Sitting up slightly against the plush silk pillows, he pulled the heavy wool quilt over his lap, brushing his hair out of his eyes. His body still felt heavy and sore from the afternoon, they had spent nearly two hours in Yerel's private study earlier, swept up in a sudden, breathless storm of desperate, quiet intimacy against the locked doors before returning to administrative duties.
