"I'm not sharing a bed with you," Lilian said, no longer batting an eye in his direction. "I'll take the cushions if I have to. You can have the bed."
"You don't want to share the bed?" Caelan repeated and shrugged, entirely unfazed by her decision. "Suit yourself. You've always had a peculiar fondness for cushions anyway. Is it some kind of private indulgence?"
Lilian paused, casting him a look.
What exactly did he mean by that?
Then, with the calm of someone who had already chosen violence in her mind, she walked past him and crouched by the sitting area, surveying the neatly arranged cushions like a scholar inspecting questionable artifacts.
"I prefer not to sleep where unnecessary breathing occurs," she said flatly. "It disrupts rest. And we've already endured a rather long journey."
Caelan blinked. "I don't snore."
"That's not my concern."
