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man stood in the doorway. “Dena?”
    “Yes?”
    “Sir Ekin’s tray of food is getting cold. It must be delivered immediately.”
    “Of course.” The man left. Dena addressed John. “I must go. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
    “Same here.” John’s eyes followed her out. She closed the door.
    John glanced at the fire Dena made. He shivered and placed another log into the flames; it did little to rid the room of the chill. Tired, he dunked his face in the water, but skipped the hand wash. He then swiftly removed his boots and clothes and jumped into bed naked. With the heavy quilt pulled all the way up to his nose, he settled in for the night. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought he detected the scent of vanilla filtering into the room.
    Jasira phased through the closed door. She found John already in bed. She spotted his clothes on the bench. The thought of him naked beneath the sheets piqued her interest, but she remained where she stood, at the foot of the bed, and watched John fall asleep.
    Her attention remained on John for hours; finally, her curiosity got the best of her and she approached him. With a wave of her hand, the quilt and sheet lowered to John’s knees, exposing the man underneath. She had never seen a more magnificent specimen of a warrior.
    Her jaw tightened. Her heart spasmed. Her eyes filled with tears. Jasira desperately wished she was solid. She wished she could feel the steeliness of his sculptured body and the silkiness of his skin. It pained her that she would never know how any man felt. She was destined to remain a phantom until truelove came her way. Only then would she become solid.
    Jasira could not remember the color of her eyes or hair. She doubted she would ever see her reflection again. Unwilling to endure the torment of being near John any longer, she decided to leave—but not without touching him first. She knew she would not be able to feel anything. She was setting herself up for more pain, yet she could not help herself. The longing was the greatest she had ever felt.
    Jasira reached for John’s hair, expecting her fingers to go through him. Instead, they encountered a wispy resistance. Jasira gasped. She tentatively gathered a short lock between her forefinger and thumb. A tremor began in her chest as the soft sensations registered in her mind. It was impossible. She was told the only person she would be able to touch was her kindred spirit. Did that mean John was him?
    Hesitantly, Jasira reached for his handsome face. Again, she encountered solid mass. Her heart banged in her chest. John’s skin was smooth and soft. Tears filled her eyes. This time, they were tears of joy. Overwhelmed by her discovery, Jasira re-covered John with a wave of her hand and floated out of his room through the nearest wall.
    John woke up early the next morning, sleepy and moody. The quilt he used was not enough to keep him warm, even with the fire going. He swore he felt cold even in his dreams. The chill seemed to be in his bones. John got up from bed and quickly washed his face and body. He dressed in the warmest clothes he had. Fully dressed, he still shivered. He did his best to ignore his discomfort and left the room to explore.
    From the castle’s main entrance, John noticed that a lot of small homes and businesses were built within the stone wall. Yet not many people lived in the area. So who ran the businesses? And why was he the only one shivering? The few people he saw did not seem affected by the cold. He made a note to put on two layers of clothes tomorrow.
    John climbed one side of the wall and looked out into the land beyond. He saw dry, cracked earth with scattered patches of greenery. The mountains in the distance reminded him of home, making him homesick.
    He climbed back down and passed each business and home a second time. He came across Dena’s siblings playing outside. Their parents heard a male’s voice and exited the small home to investigate. John greeted them