It's nearly dawn when Juta slowly stirs awake and silence is the first thing his mind registers.
The irritating trickling sound of water in the dungeon is absent. He doesn't perceive the usual smell of decaying life either—no damp stone, no rot.
Instead his body feels submerged in warmth.
Pale morning light filters through the windows in Ruto's chamber, the woods in the fireplace had already been consumed to ash sometime during the night.
Juta wants to relax into the peaceful feeling, but something holds him back.
It feels wrong.
His eyes fly open with a start, recognizing his surroundings, and then his body stiffens.
No wonder the warmth has felt strange.
It's him!
Unwanted strong arms cage Juta against an equally rock-hard bare chest. The mattress beneath them is draped with thick furs that smell faintly of mountain winds and faint molten steel.
Ruto's steady, hot breath teases his nape, sending unwanted goosebumps skittering across Juta's skin.
The tonics!
