It wasn't until the sun rose, its golden light filtering through the windows and curtains, that Azriel and Amaya realized how long they had been talking. It hadn't even been anymore about what had happened that day—well, yesterday now—just trivial, random things. Yet, strangely, Azriel didn't mind. He liked it… just talking. Nothing more, nothing less. It was a good distraction.
In the end, though, Azriel decided to take a nap, and they parted ways. Amaya, no doubt, would busy herself with whatever tasks a personal maid performed while her master slept.
As Azriel made his way to his bedroom, he paused midway, his gaze lingering on a certain closed door. For a moment, he hesitated, lost in thought, before finally reaching for the handle and stepping inside.
A simple room greeted him—plain, almost barren, with a king-sized bed and little in the way of decoration.
