Crawling under the covers, I stared up at the ceiling, my side wedged up against the wall. Even though the room itself was spacious, the beds were clearly intended for a single occupant, no doubt because there weresupposedto be two of them available. The mattress groaned as Corvin settled into the bed, his shoulder pressing into mine.
“I should have asked you which side of the bed you prefer,” I mumbled nervously.
“Oh—that’s alright. I do prefer to be near the window, but we don’t have to change.”
“No, we should. I want you to sleep well. If you want to just lift yourself up and over me…”
I gently nudged his side, trying to move toward the center of the bed. The mattress sunk lower as Corvin complied with my request, raising his body over mine. As he shifted on top of me, our eyes connected and he paused, looking down at me. Paused moving. Paused breathing. His arms tense. His pupils dilated. Paused because, for some unknown reason, I was holding his forearms, locking him in place above me. “Your skin is cold,” I whispered.
He held himself aloft, close enough I could feel his breath against my lips. “I think you just run hot.”
“I wonder how often summer and winter share the same bed.”
“Hmm. Good question,” he murmured. “Together, we could achieve thermal perfection.”
I laughed, the rumble in my chest pressing our bodies close. Corvin’s eyes dropped to my mouth, a satisfied expression on his face. Reluctantly, I released his arms, and he rolled his body all the way over mine, so that he was now the one against the wall, both of us resting on our backs once more. “Sleep well, Elvira,” he said, the lines of our bodies relaxing into one another in the bed.
“I’ve never seen a banshee warrior up close before.” I winced, unsure whether he would want to chat.
“Me either,” he replied enthusiastically. “They say they can use their banshee wail to guarantee an opponent’s death.”
“I’ve read about that. They lose their powers afterward though. It’s a last resort.”
Silence fell again.
“What if they scream on accident?” I pondered aloud.
“What do you mean?” Corvin asked.
“Like if someone scares them,” I elaborated.
Corvin was silent for a moment. “I guess they don’t plan a lot of surprise parties in Kothia.”
I giggled, the sound taking me by surprise. No one had made megigglein quite a long time.
“Sleep well, Corvin.”
“What was a rainbow and storm cloud in your day?”
“What?”
“The best and the worst thing that happened.”
“Oh, I see. Hmm. Flying for the first time. Kind of both, actually. Amazing and exhilarating. But terrifying too. How about you?”
“Mine were the same thing as well. Using the Sigbin feather. Good, because using a new feather for the first time, feeling out its magic, what I can make it do, is uniquely rewarding. Bad, because of its limited utility. And because it was under less than ideal circumstances.” He was quiet for a while before speaking again. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. The flying. I liked flying with you too.”
“What was your mother like?” I asked, thinking back on our earlier conversation.
He tensed. “Wonderful. A visionary. Believed in everyone’s potential. Was your fiercest supporter.”
“And your father? What’s he like?”
“Resilient. A survivor. Lives his life to the fullest, even though he spends most of it bedridden nowadays.”
“And what about you?” I asked. “What are you like?”
He chuckled darkly. “Neither as visionary as my mother nor as steadfast as my father, I’m afraid. Every day I fear I’m failing to live up to their legacy. That one misstep from me could spell disaster for us all.”
