Morning light streamed through the windows warming Austin's room. Alina lay sprawled on her stomach near the foot of the bed, one ankle swinging lazily in the air as she flipped through the poetry book Austin had brought her the previous day.
A half empty breakfast tray sat between them on the blankets with tea that had gone lukewarm, a toast lay untouched, and strawberries that were slowly disappearing into Alina's stomach.
They had chosen to have breakfast in the room instead of the great hall, away from all the hostile gazes and judgements that now followed her everywhere.
Austin sat propped on the headboard with several reports open on his lap. His full attention was on the papers, but every few seconds his hand moved absently towards her leg under the blanket.
"Stop glaring at the reports like you want to kill them. It's unhealthy," Alina murmured without looking up from the book.
"So does eating all the strawberries meant for two people," he replied.
