[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]
His eyelids grew heavy and he tried to concentrate on the sound of her breathing, of the soft, steady thump of her pulse. He could sense it more than hear it—a healer’s instincts, no matter what his protestations might have been, never really went away, nor did the magic bound up in those instincts. Leinth was warm; her arms were safe. Sleep tugged at him, seductive as any lover, as comforting as his lady’s embrace.
So long as the dreams he feared did not come, all would be well.
Seamus drifted, his breathing evening out slowly but surely. There were flickers at the edges of his vision, even as his eyes closed—things he’d forgotten, things he never wanted to know. He tried to push them away. He wanted to rest, to sleep. Sleep was what he needed, needed as much as he needed the woman next to him, as much as he needed air and food and love.
For a few minutes, he thought that maybe it would be all right. Maybe the panic was for nothing. Maybe Daegon had been mistaken in what he’d seen, or the distance, or something else.
Maybe it had all been some sort of bad dream.
“I love you,” he murmured to Leinth. He felt her smile.
“I love you even more.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and he smiled, curling one arm around her and drawing her closer, tighter.
“We’ll have forever this time,” he promised in a bare whisper. “I swear.”
“I’m going to hold you to that promise,” she said. “Now sleep.”
The command was too much not to obey. He sank down and down, into the gray warmth, and for a time, he knew nothing at all.
Then, someone knocked on their door.