The fire in Jocelynn's chambers had burned down to a low amber breathing in the hearth, and the oppressive stillness that had blanketed Lothian City when the sun set had given way to a cold drizzle that tapped hypnotically against the shutters. It was the sort of cold, rainy night that made people burrow deeper into the blankets, grateful for the warmth offered by the soft furs lying atop the bed that kept the cold at bay.
Ashlynn lay on her side beneath the heavy furs with her sister's back tucked against her chest, and for the first time in more nights than she could remember, she let herself simply be still. Jocelynn had fallen asleep mid-sentence while reminiscing about the orchard at Blackwell Manor and how much she missed it.
