Felix woke with a start, automatically reaching for his sword—which was nowhere near. It was a habit he had developed on the road with Isobel and Goddess Dhim when the world had been a dark place with monsters and enemies hiding in the shadows. A habit that was hard to break. After he'd sliced the curtains off his four-poster bed three times, he had decided to keep his sword well away from his sleeping spot. With plenty of King's Guards responsible for his safety, he shouldn't need it, even if he felt naked without a weapon.

A quiet whimper next to him refocused his sleep-addled brain, and he remembered falling asleep with Shae in his arms. In her bed. He still couldn't quite believe she'd allowed him to stay the night. Not that he was complaining. A quick glance out the window confirmed his suspicion that it was not yet dawn. Lighting a candle on the bedside table, he looked over at the sleeping form of his wife. She whimpered again; her face contorting with repressed emotions as she shifted restlessly.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen her like this. A few of the nights they had spent together on the road, he'd woken up to the same, but he'd never asked her about it or even mentioned it. Shae wasn't exactly forthcoming with information about herself, and he'd not wanted to jeopardise their fragile truce.

"No!" She kicked off the covers as she thrashed around.

He didn't remember it being quite this bad before. Was this because of the poison? Suddenly worried about her, he reached a hand out and put it on her shoulder. She immediately recoiled from his touch but didn't wake up.

"Shae?" Waking her might not be the best option, but she almost looked as if in pain, and he couldn't stand seeing her like that. Grabbing her shoulder a little tighter, he shook her. "Shae!"

His raised voice broke the hold of whatever nightmare was riding her, and she woke up swinging. On reflex, he caught her wrist in his hand before it connected with his face and they ended up sitting in bed facing each other, her arm still in his grip. Her chest heaved from her heavy breathing, her ample bosom straining against the fabric of the thin shift that had twisted around her body. Forcing his gaze to meet her eyes, he could tell the moment she was fully awake as her pupils finally focused on him and her arm relaxed. He released it and she let it fall into her lap.

"Felix?" A line appeared between her brows as she tried to orientate herself. "What...?"

"You had a nightmare, and I decided to wake you up."

"Oh." The way her eyes avoided his told him she knew exactly what type of nightmare she'd been having. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"Never apologise." He gave her a lopsided smile. "How are you feeling?"

She grabbed the fabric of her shift and moved it until it untwisted around her torso. "Much better. I'm tired, but not feeling any of the strange drowsiness the poison brought on."

"That's brilliant news." Relief flooded him as it seemed she was truly on the mend. Watching over her as she slept the past two days had been worse than the stress of being on the road for months upon months as he rallied the kingdoms to fight back against the Dark Disciple. Looking over his back for the Dark God's followers was nothing compared to seeing Shae lying deathly still in that bed.

The flickering light of the candle painted her skin in warm tones, but he was fairly certain some colour had returned to her cheeks even without it. She looked almost back to normal, only tired. As long as one didn't look at her injured arm, which still showed the ugly gash, though it no longer looked filled with ink. The mere sight of it made his blood boil, and he was determined to find whoever was responsible for the attack. This would not be forgotten.

Grand Sorcerer Arawn had chosen not to stitch the wound, claiming the poison would clear out quicker if they left it open. Once Shae was on the mend, they could bind it, which she seemed to be, so once morning came, he would call on a medic to do it. He didn't want to risk it getting infected. During the war, he'd seen men succumb to infections from wounds that hadn't looked bad at all, so you could never be too careful.

"You're staring."

Shae's voice brought him back from his thoughts, and he smiled wryly. "I beg your pardon."

"What are you thinking about? You were scowling." She leaned back against the headboard and pillows in a half-sitting position. Her long auburn hair spilt down her shoulders and chest, and onto the white bedding. His fingers itched to bury his hands in the soft mass and feel it slip between his fingers. Or gather it all in his fist at the nape as he tilted her head back and took possession of her mouth. He stared down at his hands in his lap. Those were thoughts about his wife he should not have. She had made it more than clear she was not interested in such a relationship with him.

And she had just been through quite an ordeal. The last thing he ought to think about was all the wicked things he wanted to do with her. His body did not agree. His body never agreed. It didn't matter that Shae had appeared to despise him since they were first introduced to each other. Or, if not despise, at the very least, care little about him. It made no difference. Despite everything, he had been attracted to her since the moment they met, and the more they got to know each other, the more he liked her. Finding out about her archery skills had been a revelation. A very enticing revelation.

"Felix?"

He startled, giving her a guilty glance. She'd asked him a question. "I was thinking about how relieved I am that you are better, and how I am going to find and punish the one responsible." He wasn't about to tell her what he'd thought about next.

"Have you found anything out?"

"Not yet. No one has seen anything suspicious." Which was worrying. He didn't say it aloud, but it meant the attacker might be someone known in the castle. Someone close to them. The thought was chilling. Moving a little closer to her, he took her hand. "We will find them. I promise."

With a yawn, she closed her eyes, but didn't pull her hand from his. "I'm sure you will," she mumbled.

"You should sleep a little longer."

She pressed her lips together and shook her head slightly. "I don't want to. Sometimes I will fall back into the same nightmare."

Leaning back against the headboard next to her, he kept hold of her hand. "What do you dream of?"

Her hand twitched, and he thought she would pull it back, but she relaxed again.

"It doesn't matter," she mumbled.

"When I dream, it's usually about the horrors we saw when fighting back against the Dark Disciple."

His admission made her open her eyes to stare at him. "You have nightmares too?"

"Sometimes." He looked up at the ceiling above, watching the candlelight chase the shadows across the stones. They had all seen too much pain, too much suffering, during the years Deva had plagued Erya. The two years he'd occupied Messina had been the worst, but they had struggled in the decade preceding the attack as well. Taking Messina back and seeing what he had done to the city and its inhabitants might have been the worst. The sorcerers of Highglaive had suffered the most as he had made the tower his base, taking everyone within it prisoner, or simply killing them. From what he'd heard from the survivors, he wasn't sure if the killed ones had received the better deal.

"Want to tell me?" she asked, her hand squeezing his.

Turning his head to look at her, he made a face. "I don't feel like I can complain," he said. "Compared to most, I suffered very little. Everyone in my family is still alive, and I suffered no life-changing injuries. All my wounds have healed."

"It's not always physical. I don't have a single physical scar." She smiled wryly and nodded towards her arm. "Maybe this will be my first."

"I will find the ones responsible," he said darkly before sighing. "You are right. Not all wounds are physical. Look at Cas."

Her eyes widened, and he cursed himself softly. If Cas had not told her himself, he would not be the one to do so. It was the other man's choice who he shared his story with. Considering how close they were, he had simply assumed she knew.

He cleared his throat. "I dream a lot about the ones I couldn't help. Couldn't save. We visited many villages that the Dark God's followers had practically razed to the ground. It was devastating to see such loss. Not even soldiers, but women and children. Regular men. And for what? They already had Messina at that point. Why were they still wreaking havoc throughout the rest of the world?"

"Because they could." Shae's free hand gripped the bedsheets, her knuckles whitening. "I think they simply enjoyed seeing us cower in fear. Maybe sometimes the end goal is simply chaos."

"Possibly." He turned over on his side and reached across her waist to grab her other hand. Her fist relaxed as he covered it, and he brought it to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist before letting go again. "Would you like to tell me about your dreams?"

She was silent for a moment, staring at nothing in particular, her eyes unfocused. "I relive the night Cyrene was attacked."

"I remember you mentioning it when we first met." He tried to remember what she'd said and what he'd heard from others. "Some of the Dark God's followers attacked while the king—your father—and most of your soldiers were away. I believe they had left to join the fight to take Messina back?"

"Exactly. Like cowards, they attacked in the middle of the night. I was asleep. We all were." She closed her eyes as if to ward off the memories, and he squeezed her hand again.

"What happened?" he asked softly when she didn't continue.

With her eyes still closed, she swallowed. "I... I woke up as a group of them broke into my bedchamber. They rolled me up in the bedsheets and one of them threw me over their shoulder. I don't know what would have happened to me had not one of my father's knights stopped them. He... He saved me. Helped me find my bow and arrows, and escorted me out of the city. My mother and brother were not so lucky. We..." Her voice broke, and she inhaled deeply before continuing. "We found them on the floor in my parents' bedchamber... They'd been cut down with no remorse."

His heart broke for her as he watched her swallow back the grief that must threaten to spill out. To have to see your family in such a way. It was unthinkable.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." An inane statement, but what else could he say? "I've heard of the attack on Cyrene. It sounds like they ignored most of the city and went straight for the Royal Palace."

She nodded, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. "It's how they could surprise us. A small group which seemed to be organised rather than their usual mindless slaughter."

"I wonder what their end goal was." He'd not realised before how single-minded their attack appeared. Why had they killed some of the royal family, but tried to take Shae alive? Before he could voice his thoughts, he noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks, and without thinking, he reached over and pulled her into his arms. He half-expected her to pull away, but she burrowed her nose in the crook of his shoulder and began crying in earnest. This was not the Shae he was used to. The attack had definitely unsettled her and must have brought back some of these unpleasant memories.

He held her as she cried, caressing her back and whispering sweet, comforting nothings in her ear. When she finally stilled, he thought she might have fallen back asleep. Then he felt her soft lips against his neck and he froze. The tentative touch sent a jolt through his body, immediately stirring his desire. His hands at her waist flexed as he resisted the temptation to pull her into his lap.

"Shae?" he croaked.

"Shh, I don't want to talk," she mumbled against his skin. "I don't want to think. I just want to feel."

By the Gods. He wanted to give in. Desperately so. But she had only just barely recovered from the poison. She was exhausted and emotional, and he did not want to take advantage of her state.

"I... I don't know if—" Her lips against his silenced his objection. He groaned. She was warm and soft in his arms, and far too tempting. When she nibbled on his lower lip, his restraint nearly broke. It was with otherworldly strength he gently pushed her away and scooted out of the bed—lest he pull her into his arms and did a lot more than kiss her.

Her eyes fluttered open, but she refused to look at him. Did he imagine the faint blush on her cheeks?

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I don't know what came over me."

Leaning over the bed, he tucked a finger under her chin to make her meet his eyes. "Never apologise," he said gently. "Trust me, I want nothing more than to come back into bed and help you forget everything. But you have been through an ordeal and you are not fully recovered yet. When—if—we make love again, I don't want you to regret it after. I want to make sure it's something you truly want."

"A... All right." Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he had to force himself to take a step away.

"I will spend the last couple of hours before dawn in my room," he said. Because there was no way he could lie back next to her and not kiss her.

He didn't stay to hear her response. Instead, he fled the room like a coward. But he refused to take advantage of her, and he meant what he said. He wanted her to want him. Him. Not just a convenient body to dull her memories. Not just the husband she had to be with to fulfil her duties.

As he closed the door to his bedchamber behind him, he wondered when his feelings for his wife had changed. He had always been attracted to her, but when had it become about so much more than that? When had he gone from a light interest to being unable to imagine a life without her?

~~~~~~