Elandra wakened slowly, stretching beneath the warm fur cloak that had served as their coverlet. Her bed was made of thick pine boughs, with Caelan’s tattered red cloak spread across them. They had spent the night in the innermost cavern, where hundreds of emeralds embedded in the ice walls glittered around them like stars. A fire that needed no replenishing had burned nearby all night. Food, steaming hot, had been waiting for them. She could smell fresh platter cakes now, making her ravenous. Truly this was a special, magical place. She was not ready to leave so soon. But Caelan was already out of bed. Quietly he was dressing with his back to her. She rolled onto one elbow and watched him, loving the gleam of firelight on his sun-bronzed skin, the smooth ripple of muscle and sinew, the knobby ridge of vertebrae up his spine as he bent over to pull on his leggings. Thinking of the night and its mysteries, she felt herself blushing, but she didn’t care. She was wildly, gloriously happy.
