The fire had burned down to the final glowing embers and my last coin had been spent hours ago. I let the very last drop of wine touch my tongue and pushed the empty bottle across the table to clink against all the others. Lestat was slumped on the bed. His eyes were closed and his hair was a tangle of gold about his face. One knee was crooked at an angle, resting against the wall and the other long leg lay sprawled diagonally across the straw mattress, a booted foot hanging off the side. I moved unsteadily closer to try to rouse him from his peaceful slumber. An empty bottle leaned against his wine soaked shirt. I think he was wearing more wine than he had actually drunk although his current intoxicated stare made it impossible to know for certain.

"Lestat..." I whispered, as I reached out and pushed his hair from his eyes. Not a sound from him. "Lestat," I said it louder this time, and took hold of his shoulder and shook him but he was dead to the world. So I hauled him to his feet for the long, cold and clumsy trip back to the castle. He muttered something incoherent as I wrestled his cloak onto him and draped a heavy arm over my shoulder.

We both tripped over our own feet or each others’ with every second step we took, falling into the muddy snow, often piled together and unmoving before one could regain some momentum. By the time I pulled open the massive wooden doors we were completely soaked and I could barely hold his weight any longer. He toppled to the floor, sat heavily against the stone and laughed loud enough to wake the dead. The sound echoed through the castle and brought a young servant girl to find the cause of such a ruckus. Her dark eyes glowed wide under the light of the lamp she held in one shaky outstretched hand

I smiled what I hoped was my most charming smile and pressed one finger to my lips in a gesture of silence, nearly bursting into a fit of laughter myself at the thought of how foolish we both must look.

"Show me to Monsieur Lioncourt’s room," I requested, in the most serious tone I could muster. I hoisted Lestat up by one arm and helped him up the solid stairs as we followed behind her. She pushed open a creaking door and I nodded in appreciation before leading him inside.

The room was large yet dark and despite the roaring fire in one corner there was a damp chill in the air that even penetrated the flush of the wine. Two massive young dogs stirred by the hearth. Both took a moment to grunt at Lestat and I, before falling back down on their forepaws and into contented slumber. Noticing the familiar setting, Lestat staggered a few paces to sit upon the bed. Finally he dropped back on the pillow and instantly fell into a deep sleep. I pulled the sodden cloak out from under him then stretched out his legs to yank the muddy boots from his feet.

I remained sitting on the bed beside him, my eyes fixed in drunken exhaustion, enjoying the meagre heat and the sudden stillness. He was lost to the world, yet the silence only strengthened the unexpected tug I had felt in the inn, the sacred bond of something lost and found. His fair hair, variegated with damp and caked with mud, spilled carelessly over the pillow. His eyelids fluttered once. I propped my drowsy head up on one hand, my gaze still fixed to this marvellous creature beside me. He was a malcontent, at odds with this family just as I was with mine. We were kindred, maverick souls. The idea seemed to burst into light before my eyes. In my narrowing bitter existence, I could have imagined no greater and miracle than Lestat was to me then, even as he slept soundly with a muddied cheek and a wine-soaked shirt and knew nothing of it.

I reached over to untie the string that was still knotted at his neck and the torn and filthy shirt opened in the shape of a V, the firelight playing on the damp skin and bathing the contoured muscle in an amber glow. He shimmered like a lost and ruinous god, and the miracle intensified as I stole a kiss as if to prove he was quite real. And at the touch I awoke as if from a dream.

Drunken desire was easily overcoming all reason or else what was this that bound me to him? Light and flesh seemed as one and I would possess them both. It seemed fitting that hands already possessed by the devil’s skill moved with the graze of reverent temptation. My drowsy lips brushed his neck and I tasted the warm salty skin. I was at war. It was wicked to press my lips to his the way that lovers do and that knowledge pierced the haze and turned my mind in questions. Was it possible to further damn a soul already condemned to the fires of hell?

The room spun. Lestat stirred in his sleep, groaning something unintelligible before rolling away from me. I broke into a laugh at the sheer lunacy of it all and my head swam. One would think that I could show a little respect under the Marquis’ own roof. I got unsteadily to my feet and pulled the thick blanket over him. I spent the remaining hours before dawn wandering the icy streets aimlessly as my head slowly cleared. It was as though I had left the most important thing in the world behind and I wondered that I felt no more shame.