The morning after the feast was pale, snow still clung to the ground outside the Dragon Guild building.
Becca stirred awake with a groan, clutching her head. Her memories were fragmented, Kayla and Alice's banter, the cheers of the tribes, the warmth of firelight…and lips against lips.
She sat upright so fast she nearly fell from the bed. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Did I really…? The scene from last night played in her head again.
She looked down and saw her body covered by a silk sheet and she wore an oversized black t-shirt.
Across the room, Xior sat on a low bench, lacing his boots. His face was calm, unreadable as ever. But she noticed how he avoided her eyes.
The silence was unbearable, with all the fragments she remembered she felt too stunned to usher a single word.
"About last night–" she started then faltered.
Xior looked up at her, his expression was steady as ever. "You were drunk."
