Chapter 97 Archer

• Archer
• I blink awake, groggy and disoriented from the weirdly deep sleep I clawed my way out of to be here. The room is shadowed and still, filled with small snores and light breathing. Trystan’s back burns hot against my legs, and I think, Jesus, he’s like a furnace. How does Sable sleep next to that?
• I’m sitting up, my back against the headboard and my head angled down awkwardly in a position not meant for sleeping. I tilt it the other way, hoping to pop the crick out of my neck. The bones crackle like rapid gunfire, and I groan with relief, sagging back against the headboard and glancing toward the window. Outside the glass, light creeps through the crack in the curtains, and I can taste dawn on the horizon. I must not have slept well, considering how hazy and exhausted I feel.