CHAPTER 38
George rolled over, comfortable in his bed, but the smell of bacon was proving hard to ignore.
Something was wrong with the light, though. Too bright for early morning. He opened his eyes. It’s late, I’ve overslept, he thought in alarm.
Wait, where am I? This is Angharad’s room. He looked down. He was on top of the covers, mostly dressed, but someone had thrown a blanket over him. He had only the vaguest recollection of last night, tapping on her door. A flush crept up his face. What must she think of me?
Well, can’t have been too bad. At least she gave me a blanket, he chuckled.
He stretched, wincing at the wound in his right leg, and took stock. He felt much better, not exactly well-rested, that would need much more sleep, but cheerful and ready for action.
Better clean
