Daemon was sitting straight up in bed, shivering, black nails clenched against bare upper arms. The window was wide open and it was pitch black outside, a soft wind blowing and whispering through the leaves. A distant howl bark was answered by another, the wolf pack out for a hunt. The house was utterly silent, the moonlight reflecting off the stone floor in Jaenelle's room.
Jaenelle. He looked down at her, lying curled on the mattress, a small smile on her lips, her hair tangled and strewn in a golden halo around her head. He felt a strange chill run through him. He knew he should lay back down beside her and close his eyes, go back to sleep. But the very thought of it made him tremble with fear.
He reached out a hand, hesitantly, half wanting to wake her, wanting to understand the half-felt fear lingering from what might have been a dream. But even as he pulled his hand back, not wanting to disturb her, her eyes snapped open and she stared right at him.
"Daemon." Her voice was soft, and there was a world of meaning in that one word. Relief surged through Daemon and he felt himself slump, letting go of tensions he didn't even know he'd harbored.
"Jaenelle?"
She sat up and put her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. Her body felt warm and safe and secure and alive. Daemon clung to her desperately. "I think I had a dream about you," he murmured softly. "But I don't – remember –"
She brushed a hand against his forehead, tenderly. "Daemon," she murmured in a warning voice.
He took a shuddering breath, feeling the fear return. "I was holding you as tight as I could," he whispered. "I was, I was, you have to believe me."
"I do."
"But you were slipping away – and I begged you to stay but you wouldn't, and then you were gone and I couldn't see you anymore." He looked down. He didn't want her to see the raw fear in his eyes.
She leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "You tried, Daemon. You really did try. I know that."
He turned his head to look her in the eyes. "But it wasn't enough."
Her eyes darkened, just slightly, and he saw the whisper of Witch. "Is it ever?" she murmurs.
He cupped her chin in his hands. "Jaenelle, are you planning something? Something about the war?" He asked her, urgently, searching her face.
The slightest flicker of doubt crossed her eyes, and chasing that, a little bit of sadness. She pulled his hands down and smoothed the sheets, avoiding his face. "Maybe. I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
She was silent. "Daemon, I – I can't tell you. Really, I can't. I wish I could, but –"
He looked away. She wouldn't trust him. "Jaenelle, can I ask you one thing?"
She seemed to sense his hurt and he could see her flinch. "If I may answer it."
"Do you love me?"
She turned her head and gave him a long look. The mask fell from her eyes, and he was staring into deep, dark sapphire depths swirling with sorrow and just the slightest touch of fear. Of him? Oh, Darkness, no. Not of him. And nearer, lighter, acceptance and love.
"Yes, Daemon. I love you."
"And you promise you won't leave me?"
A longer hesitation, and when she replied, her eyes were inscrutable. "I won't leave you alone, Daemon. I promise."
Daemon stared at her, his stomach turning over nervously. Something was wrong.
She reached out and kissed his lips lightly. "Please, Daemon. Don't worry. Trust me."
He gave her a weak smile. "All right, love. I'll try."
Jaenelle's answering smile was warm, and then she laid back down and curled against him, head on his chest. She's a warm, light weight, her dark presence soothing and safe. She's safe. She said to trust her. And for now, he would trust her. He would trust his Queen.
I should have known, Daemon thought bitterly, staring at the statue in the fountain, and the beast-man crouched over her. I should have known.
And he buried his face in his hands, and cried.
