Then she drew up the blankets around them both. He didn’t so much as flinch as she scooted closer, into the solid muscle of his body. No, Dorian only draped an arm over her, and pulled her tightly against him. Manon was still listening to his breathing when she fell asleep, warm in his arms. She awoke at dawn to a cold bed. Manon took one look at the empty place where the king had been, at the lack of supplies and that ancient sword, and knew. Dorian had gone to Morath. And had taken the two Wyrdkeys with him.
