Amira awoke the next day to the sensation of being cradled, and as she lifted her head, she realized she was in Zyran's arms, with him soundly asleep beside her.
She let out a sigh and allowed her head to rest back against his chest, her thoughts inevitably drifting back to the events of the celebration. The clash of swords and the sight of blood had brought back haunting memories from her past, plaguing her mind once more.
Her fingers tightened on his shirt as she took in a sharp intake of breath, feeling a sudden pat on her head and hearing a calming voice that whispered to her.
"No one is going to hurt you," Zyran whispered his words a comforting balm to her heart. Amira raised her head to meet his eyes.
"I'm sorry for waking you," she said softly.
He simply smiled and leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"You didn't," he assured her.
As he brushed her hair away from her face, his eyes lingered on her, full of tenderness and concern.
