[Lavinia's POV—Dawnspire Wing, Her Chamber]
I plopped backward onto the absurdly fluffy mountain of pillows with a groan so dramatic, the bards outside probably thought I was dying again.
"Thank the gods," I mumbled, "finally alone. Blessedly horizontal. No lectures, no tears, no glowing elf hands on my throat. Just peace… soft sheets… and sweet, sacred silence."
I closed my eyes, relishing the moment. It was so quiet I could almost hear the palace breathing around me.
"I wonder…" I whispered into the air, "when Osric's coming ba—"
THUMP.
Heavy.
Very heavy.
Too heavy.
I cracked one eye open.
A giant golden paw flopped across my stomach like an affectionate sack of bricks. Then—
SLURP.
My cheek was suddenly under siege from a rough, wet tongue.
"Marshi!" I yelped, swatting at the massive, glittering furball now sprawled entirely on top of me like a sentient mattress.
