The first light of the Northwest morning was pearlescent grey, filtering through the frost of Zaliyah's bedchambe.
Zaliyah opened his eyes slowly, the weight of the "burning Fever" finally lifted. He felt a strange, peaceful resonance in his bones, a lingering memory of the power he had summoned on the mountain.
Beside him, the tableau remained unchanged from the night before, but the exhaustion was deeper. Harun's chin was tucked against his chest, a small frown of concentration etched into his sleeping face. Iruna was curled at the foot of the bed, her fingers still loosely tangled in the silk sheets near Zaliyah's hand. For the first time, the twins were so deeply submerged in their slumber that they didn't stir as he shifted.
Zaliyah didn't want to wake them. He knew the price they had paid first in the cave, then in the long watch over his fever. With the stealth of a cat, he beckoned to the maids standing silently by the door.
