A Palace of Ghosts

Soren hovers over the bed, clutching me in his arms. There is a gentle sway in his motions, like a mother rocking a child to sleep, or a boat on the gentle waves of a calm sea. I could quite easily stay in his arms forever, and I am sure he would let me if I asked. But the bed besides me looks warm and inviting, so that with each passing second I find myself more and more drawn to sink into its pillow-y sheets.

"You just take a good rest, okay darling? You have had a busy day, and you will need to conserve your energy for when we see Azrael tomorrow. Don't worry, I will be here when you wake up," he assures me, sliding me down from his arms onto the thick velvety sheets of his bed- a bed that I can now confirm have both sexual and sleeping purposes. I barely even register getting myself under the covers, let alone the moment he turns away to leave the room. My head feels wozzy, spinning with the heat of the day and the mountain of exhaustion that comes with it.