He'd given me so few opportunities to study him by daylight, and the kitchen seemed to be perpetually glowing with streams of sunlight, even on days when outside it was foggy and drizzling. His skin gleamed, burnished copper and dark brass, rich shades of brown and glimmers of red. The gold paint on his horns was slightly faded, and I wondered what ceremony he made of the decoration. Did he have a brush or use his fingers? "You're very impatient," Asterion said, taking my hands in his and turning me back to the table.
