Serenith wakes to sunlight warm across her face, and for a moment she simply lies there, soaking it in, eyes fluttering open slowly to golden fields stretching toward the horizon and the faint smell of hay drifting on the breeze.
All feels right with the world.
Three whole nights now, and not once has she had to listen to Lucien's sweat-slicked pelvis slapping against someone for hours on end. It's been, without exaggeration, the most restful stretch of her entire time beside Lucien.
She climbs out of her portable cloud bed with a contented stretch, folds it neatly into a small, glowing square, and tucks it away into a magical fold sewn somewhere into the hem of her gown. She lifts the gown briefly, grinning proudly down at her new pair of floral-print panties. Another piece of armour against Lucien's unrelenting attacks on her dignity.
She smooths the fabric back into place before floating gently down off the cottage roof.
