Things you were never meant to hear:
The night is quiet, the room is cool, the bed is soft and the sheets fresh but sleep is eluding him.
Aeryn is curled up, her hand tucked under her cheek and her breathing deep so Sebastian moves slowly and quietly and rolls to his feet. Padding across the floor to the window he stares into the dark garden beneath him. The moon casts streaks of light across the turf and up the wall, catching the pale silver stalks of lavender just beginning to blossom.
Closing his eyes, he imagines the soft scent of them, just a little biting. Clean, crisp and cold. The main ingredient in the incense they’d used in Kirkwall. He’d spent days in the cellar, learning to roll out the charcoal and clay and mix the oils. Simple, repetitive. Easy to lose oneself, in repetition, in the eternal duty of the Chant.
Bowing his head, he calls up a verse. Murmuring under his breath, low enough not to wake her, he skips from Transfigurations to Exhaltations and back to Trials, ever a refuge of the sleepless.
“...in the empty space, where our hearts hunger for the forgotten face...”
Startled, Sebastian turns back to the bed. Aeryn has shifted slightly, her lips barely parted, her eyes still closed. But the words are still whispering.
He’s never heard her speak a word of the Chant. It’s almost like seeing her stripped suddenly naked, as though he should cover his ears. Outside, a dog bursts into barking, her brow twitches and the flow of words stops. He’s almost grateful. Maker forgive him.
His cheeks are wet as he slides back into bed, as she curls into him and he clings to her warmth and grace.