The Prince knelt on the covers, hands hovering over her shape, uncertain how to go about this. She was so pale, and her breathing so shallow that she could have slept in Death’s arms.
“Go on, go on,” the old fairy coaxed from the doorway. “She’s been dreaming of you, too, for so many years.”
Heart thudding against his ribs, The Prince lowered until he finally felt her breath sweeping his cheek. He took the narrow peak of her chin, holding his breath for fear an exhalation would blow her away in the breeze, and pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss he’d dreamed nightly for months. She moaned into his mouth, body arching under him, and he lowered his left arm to sweep her from the bed. Yet as soon as his hand touched the small of her back, a palm thrust into his forehead, pushing him away, and her body lurched, curling into the covers and burying her face in the pillow.
“Five more minutes,” she mumbled. “Just five more minutes…”