"Come back to bed."
WHEN SHE SAID
“Come back to bed.”
Inara’s voice is soft, almost a whisper, almost like perhaps she’s trying not to be heard. He wouldn’t know she was awake at all if not for the way her eyes peek over the top of the blanket hugged to her chest, her body half-curled, half-exposed in the dawn.
When his head turns to look back over his shoulder at her while he tugs on his shirt, she almost seems to shrink. Like she spoke too loud and didn’t mean to. He does not smile, but he means to.
“You could come with me,” he says.
A rarer offer than her snort makes it seem she realizes. This is his time. His peace.
The mist and dew are his companions on the shooting range, the crisp morning air slipping into his lungs. There’s something about it, raising his bow and nocking an arrow as the Amaranthine mist curls around his ankles, that’s holy. He prefers to enjoy it alone.
But she’s…
Her body rolls, and the blanket goes up over her head.
He smiles.
==
WHEN HE SAID
“Come back to bed.”
She hears the words a beat after they’re said. Lightning flickers over the stone, illuminating the Warden-Commander’s worried features as she stands at the window. Pain pounds the misty glass, and in the dark she almost thinks she can see—
Something.
She’s never liked storms, and Amaranthine’s skies are full of them. Her nights are often long and dark, made longer by the clouds. The storms growl outside, flash and bang. But this one seems louder than all the rest.
He lights a candle, and her head turns back to him, eyes dark and full of questions. His are blue, and clear as a summer’s day. Well. A summer’s day anywhere but cursed Amaranthine.
He pats the bed next to him, after throwing back the covers she’d replaced so carefully, trying not to wake him.
“Have you ever heard what the Dalish say about the thunder?” she asks him.
Her fingers are shaking.
“Come and tell me,” he invites.
