Morning came gray and overcast, the kind of light that made the inn's worn furniture look softer than it actually was, and Aaron woke to find his wings had not, in fact, vanished overnight as some small, hopeful part of him had wondered if they might.
They were still there. Folded against his back, pressing slightly against the mattress in a way that required him to lie at an angle he wasn't used to, the unfamiliar weight settling into his awareness the moment he tried to roll over and discovered that rolling over now involved considerably more coordination than it used to.
"You're awake," Claire said from across the room, where she'd apparently finally allowed herself to sit rather than hover, a cup of something steaming held loosely in her hands. The shadows under her eyes told him she hadn't slept at all, despite his insistence the night before that she should.
"You didn't rest."
