Sicarius set the items on the desk, intending to leave, but Amaranthe’s twitches and mutters grew more agitated, more pronounced. She gasped, blurting a clear, “Don’t! Please, not again. I–I can’t tell. I won’t.”
He padded to her corner. He doubted it was in his capacity to help her, but he would try.
“Amaranthe,” he murmured, touching her shoulder.
She cringed inward, tucking into a tighter ball, burying her head in her arms.
Though he knew she wasn’t experiencing the here and now, and the gesture didn’t signify fear of him, it stung anyway, having her shy away from him. Once it wouldn’t have mattered. Once he’d expected that response from everyone and had not cared whether he received it or not.
Sicarius sat down beside her, his shoulder to her back. Face to her knees, she only muttered, “No, no,” over and over.
“I suppose telling you it’s dawn and time to train would only evoke a similar response,” he said.
He didn’t expect the comment to pierce her dreams and was mulling over ways to wake her without distressing her further, but her head jerked up, eyelids springing open, her hand clutching her chest. Sitting with his arm against her back, he could feel her heart slamming against her ribcage.
“Train?” Amaranthe blinked, confusion crinkling her brow. Her eyes focused on him, and she gulped, lowering her hand.
“Not now,” Sicarius said. “Everyone is sleeping after the late night. You should go back to sleep too. A more restful version.”
Amaranthe winced. “Sorry, did you hear me?” She glanced at the door, as if fearing her outcries had been audible throughout the factory.
“Not until I came in.”
“Oh.” She drew away from his arm, eyeing his position on the edge of her blankets.
There was a time, Sicarius thought, sighing inwardly, when she would have been pleased to see him sitting so close with blankets spread out beneath them. She would have made self-deprecating jokes, or perhaps teased him playfully, all the while looking up at with him with hopeful eyes, wondering if perhaps he’d be interested in doing more than simply talking.
It was your choice never to act on those opportunities, Sicarius reminded himself. Now, she merely looked uncertain. And self-conscious.
Amaranthe scraped her hair away from her face, pushing locks behind her ears. The windows weren’t the only things she’d washed before bed-her face and hands were clean of the grime from the Gazette explosions. The scent of her almond bark and cherry blossom shampoo teased his nostrils. After the restless sleep, her garments were in disarray. Though few would categorize long underwear as sexy, his gaze snagged on the skin exposed between waistband and shirt. That was clean, too-he removed his gaze and kept his attention from deeper contemplations of that skin and surrounding… skin.
“You had news, right?” Amaranthe rubbed her eyes.
“Yes.”
She waited expectantly.
“I will deliver it in three hours.”
“What’s happening in three hours?” Amaranthe asked.
“I will deliver my news.”
She snorted. “I mean, what’s happening now and for the next three hours that will delay this delivery?”
“You’re going back to sleep.”
“Erg, I think I’ve had enough of that.”
“You require more than two hours to function optimally as team leader.” Yes, he told himself, keep saying things like that. That’s what’ll teach her to relax in your presence. “I will stand guard to ensure your sleep is restful.” There, maybe that was a little better?
“Oh, really?”
Good. She looked intrigued, despite his tactless way of letting her know he was concerned for her and wished her to find peaceful rest. There’d been so few times in his life when he’d attempted to appear inviting that he didn’t know how to manage it, but he lifted an arm, hoping it would be enough.
“Hm.” Amaranthe rearranged the blankets, shifted her body so they faced the same direction, and slid in under his arm. After a tentative glance at his face, she slipped her arms around his torso. Mostly. The dagger collection gave her trouble as she tried to avoid being poked by hilts. “Do you always climb into women’s beds with all your weapons bristling?”
A few Maldynado-esque comments floated into his mind, but Sicarius squashed them. He’d been spending far too much time in close proximity to that man this last year. He thought about explaining the soul construct and his trip to Fort Urgot, but he wanted her to sleep. Any talk of work would convince her it was time to start the day. “It would be amateurish of me to stand guard without them.”
“Of course. What was I thinking? I’ll just… make do.”
He took satisfaction in the upturning of her lips as she wriggled closer and let her eyelids droop closed. For once, it seemed she was too tired to worry about appearances. Or perhaps, all along, he should have been offering to stand guard from her bedside instead of outside her door.
Sicarius closed his own eyes, though he pursued meditation instead of sleep, the quiet, thought-free state of mind he’d learned to achieve from the same Nurian tutor who’d taught him defenses against the mental sciences. It allowed the body to regenerate as efficiently as a night’s sleep and in less time. During the meditation, he could also focus on healing wounds more quickly than nature would have accomplished on its own. It was the calming effect it brought to the mind that he appreciated most. The skill had allowed him to deal with his own nightmares in the aftermath of Pike’s… lessons.
Sicarius’s eyes popped open. Perhaps he could teach the practice to Amaranthe. With the way her mind raced about at all times, scheming up some plot even when she was in the midst of a training session, she would find it difficult to free it of thoughts and find tranquility, but if she could master even a modicum of the ability to meditate, she might be able to push the nightmares from her mind.
Later, he decided. She had nodded off, her head on his chest, her breathing gentle and even. He closed his eyes again, his mind empty, his senses focused inward, though he remained distantly aware of his surroundings. Something metal batted against the roof as the wind picked up. Someone walked across the catwalk, heading to the water closet. Men snored on the floor downstairs. Maldynado returned from his watch shift and, a short time later, engaged in coitus with Yara, an activity that continued for a tediously long time and made it difficult for Sicarius to remain in a meditative state. He was relieved when, near the end of the three hours, Amaranthe roused of her own accord. It was time to get the team to work-and share his news.
She smiled up at him, not yet lifting her head from his chest. “Thank you. You should come stand guard for me more often.”
“If you found it valuable,” Sicarius said, his chin drooped, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed at her. Strange how much it pleased him that she’d slept quietly in his arms. He’d distanced himself from so much of the human experience over the years that he hadn’t realized he could be pleased by anything. He’d been denied pleasures in his youth and, after that, it’d seemed practical to abstain-a man with so many hunting him shouldn’t allow himself any predictable vices.