Hours later, Liam slept.
Not deeply enough for Arik's liking, but enough.
He lay curled on the enormous bed in the room that had been assigned to Arik and very clearly not to him, his damp hair loose across the pillow, one hand fisted in Arik's discarded shirt as if even unconsciousness had decided separation was unreasonable.
The physicians would have called it restorative sleep.
Arik called it the first acceptable decision anyone in Nuria had made since their arrival.
Gold ether moved quietly around the bed, not bright enough to wake Liam and not sharp enough to alarm the wards. It settled over the room in a thin insulating layer, dampening every sound before it could reach him. Footsteps in the corridor faded to nothing. The low hum of Deira beyond the window softened. Even the palace bells, which had finally stopped announcing Goliath's return every few minutes like a system with abandonment issues, could not fully pass through.
