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“Sky, wake up, come on, come out of it.”
I thrash and scream, calling for Daimis.
“I’m here,” he shouts. “I’m right here.”
Where? I can’t find him.
I’m trapped in the darkness.
Finally, finally, my eyes fly open.
Daimis. His beautiful face is torn with both panic and concern and he’s breathing almost as hard as I am. I gulp down breaths and shake uncontrollably. I fall forward and wrap my arms around him, letting his warmth seep into me and his scent surround me, their comfort like a soothing balm. I notice the door of the armoire is hanging open, crooked on its hinge, like Daimis had thrown it open so hard when he came in here that he damaged it.
“It was a nightmare,” he says, cradling me to his chest. “It’s over now. I’ve got you.” His hands work long strokes down my unbound hair. “You’re safe.”
“Don’t go,” I breathe, my voice raw and gravely. I know how pathetic I sound and don’t care, because truth be told, I do feel safe with Daimis. “I really don’t want to be alone right now.”
His hand hesitates like he’s considering, then he holds me a little tighter and whispers into the top of my head, “You’re not alone. I’ll stay.”
His words are everything. Somewhere in the night, I fall asleep in Daimis’s arms and for the first time in a long time, I sleep soundly.
* * *
The next morning I wake up just before dawn, tucked under my covers. I half wonder if I imagined what happened last night until I spot the tiny note on the empty pillow next to me. I grab the little paper. My first thought is his handwriting really hasn’t improved much over the years.
S~
I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye, but I didn’t want to wake you after you’d had such a hard night. I figured you needed the rest. Besides, I’m not sure when your handmaiden comes. Didn’t want to give her the wrong idea about us.
Thank you for allowing me to comfort you last night. Just so you know, I get them too. You’re not alone.
P.S. You drool.
I look at my pillow, but it’s dry
Made you look.
I laugh
You actually appear deceptively gentle and innocent when you sleep. Good thing for me, you’re neither.
~D
I look at the S and D and wonder if Daimis noticed it’s the same way he wrote letters to me when we were children. I know it’s silly, but it makes me feel like he’s talking to the real me in the letter. And while I wait for the shame and humiliation of last night to come, it never does.
* * *
I’m in my fighting leathers, my basilard blades in their holsters at my hips, and a fur-lined cloak around my shoulders. I leave the queen’s suite for the last time. I’m surprised to see Daimis leaning casually against the opposite wall from my door, cutting into an apple with a dagger. He’s wearing all black leathers. They’re well-worn. The material hugs his sculpted muscles, and he has a whole arsenal on him: daggers strapped to his legs, throwing knives in a row across his belt, another larger dagger at one hip, and an empty holster, I assume is for the one he’s currently using on the apple, and a large, beautiful sword strapped across his back, peeking out from behind his head. His chain peeks out from his collar, the pendant once again tucked away under his shirt. He hasn’t bothered to shave this morning, and his curly hair falls above his eyes and to his shoulders. He looks more warrior than prince. I look him up and down appraisingly.
“What?” he asks, one corner of his mouth lifted.
I’m not about to let him know I think he’s never looked sexier, or that my pulse quickened the moment I laid eyes on him. He’s arrogant enough as it is, he certainly doesn’t need my help in that department.
“You’re going to be cold,” I say instead, noticing he has no cloak.
“I don’t get cold easily. Besides, I can think of a few ways to get warm.”
I raise my brows. “I hope that means you brought your flint.” He chuckles and places a slice of the apple into his mouth.
