As darkness settled, the palace was quiet, and many had retired to rest their weary bones, and so did the King.
Rowan lay on the bed, his lips slightly parted and his eyes closed, but his muscles tensed in distress, and his fingers tightened on the silk sheets. One look and anyone could tell he was having a nightmare.
Deep in slumber, Rowan tossed and turned. Memories flashed before him—one minute he was in the throne room, and the next he was in bed with Elias.
He could hear their hatched breathing, the feel of their bodies, the warmth of his touch, and the moans from his lips. Rowan turned, then sat up, his eyes wide open as he stared around.
"It was in this room," he murmured, gasping for air. He stood up and walked to another angle as if inspecting the area, and it was indeed just like his dream.
