[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]
Sleep eluded him, and he could feel the weight of Leinth’s stare settled on him even as he lay in their bed, his eyes closed. She sat in a corner, needle and thread in hand, working on something—he wasn’t sure what. Seamus finally opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling.
“You should be sleeping,” Leinth said, her tone mildly chiding. “What’s the matter?”
“I can’t,” he said, then sighed. “I’ve been trying for—how long has it been since we got back here?”
“Hour and a half, maybe,” Leinth said, still not looking up from her sewing. “You seem restless.”
“That’s one way to put it,” he murmured. “I would love to sleep, but I’m too awake for it.”
“You realize that sounds absurd.”
“Absolutely.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”
Leinth stayed silent for a few seconds, then set aside her sewing and came over to the bed, settling down on the edge of it. She reached down, her fingers gently combing through his hair, and he opened his eyes to look up at her. He smiled faintly.
“Tell me everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “Lie to me a little bit.”
“You don’t know it’s a lie.”
He just smiled sadly at her and she sighed, looking down.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered in response. “It won’t be a lie.”
“Okay,” Seamus said. “I believe you.”
Even that was a lie, no matter how badly he wanted to believe her—how badly he hoped it would be true. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t sleep. Perhaps he was worried the dreams would come again. If he were honest, he’d been having dreams about what he knew would come soon for years—decades. He had known something would shift. He had known a reckoning would come.
Still, he worried. It was all he could really do.
