" The fire was banked down to glowing coals, and the lamps were out. I went to the bed and drew aside the curtain. Sarkan was sleeping stretched across the bed still in his breeches and his loose shirt; he’d only thrown off his coat. I stood holding the curtain. He blinked awake at me unguarded for a moment, too startled to be indignant, as if he’d never imagined anyone could barge in on him. He looked so baffled I didn’t want to shout at him anymore. "

― Naomi Novik , Uprooted