Chapter 921 The Tables Have Turned

• Posey
• “We’re going to stay on the grounds for now,” Aris says, untying his boots in the glare of the warm sun against the rapidly melting snow. The trees are still coated in snow, and the air is chilled but far warmer than it’s been lately, and when I shed my cloak and hang it over an old stone wall, my skin doesn’t feel like it’ll freeze immediately, but I still shiver in nothing but the nightgown I wore to bed last night that I haven’t changed out of, mostly because it smells like Aris, and I want to bury my face in it.
• He looks up at me from the steps, squinting against the sun, and tilts his head toward the patchwork of overgrown hedges.