The master suite of the border inn was practically an oven compared to the corridor.
Which was excellent for avoiding frostbite. But the instant the sliding shoji doors clicked shut behind us, the temperature in the room became suffocating for an entirely different reason.
Occupying exactly ninety percent of the available floor space was a single, enormous, absurdly plush futon.
It was heaped with thick snow-fox furs and heavy silk quilts. A large charcoal brazier burned cheerfully near the head of the bed, casting a warm, flickering orange glow over the blankets.
It looked like a cloud. A very romantic, deeply troublesome cloud.
"Well," I squeaked, and the word died immediately in my throat. I stood frozen in the doorway, clutching a sleepy Rin against my chest. "That is... a very economical use of space."
