Some nights, sleep did not come easy. She supposed it was like that for everyone with secrets, with lies that weighed a little too heavy some dark hours of the morning; she liked to try to pretend she didn't have a conscience or emotions, but she did. They just didn't quite work the same as everyone else's. His presence ought to help, but it didn't - sometimes, it could make it worse.
Aishani loved having N'rov in her bed, loved curling up against his warm, broad back, loved the regularity of his breathing as he slept - when she was barely conscious, it seemed so similar to the sound of Iesaryth's waves that they almost blended together. That she could feel so strongly was part of what had her sitting up quietly next to him on occasion - such as this one in particular - dark gaze unfocused, staring out into the semi-darkness beyond the beaded doorway.
She'd sometimes watch him in the dark, horrified and fascinated with the feeling inside her, so so close to what Azaylia had described, so close it sometimes made her feel anxious and faintly ill. She was an expert at controlling emotion, but this refused to be shoved down deep like her anger, refused to be pushed aside, refused to be stomped on or killed, no matter how much it scared her. It grew.
When taking the first step on her path, Aishani had known one thing: nothing could come before her father, her family; nothing could matter more than her goal. She couldn't care the way she did.
But that wasn't even what worried her, for all it should.
If she cared, how would she lose him?
Would her secrets run out one day, and he'd find there was nothing that interesting about her - that without someone to appeal to her better nature, she was bitter and hateful and awful? Would these issues between their homes, the distance between them wear on him? Would there be no time to call them when Iesaryth finally rose? Would - the worst of dark thoughts - something terrible happen to him? She couldn't bear it again: it was the thought that made her hold him too tightly for too long when they were lying in bed, catching their breath together; it was what woke her nights like this.
If she cared too much, she would lose him, wouldn't she? Or had she made a trade, when she sent him to see her family? Did she give up them for him? If that was the case, at least she'd know she could try to relax, be happy as much as her paranoia might allow.
But she wasn't sure she even believed in happiness, not like that.
It had been easier when it was just fun (or she could convince herself that's all it was) - flirting with, writing to this distractingly attractive stranger who'd turned up with marks for her won from a bet, like he'd known how to find whatever heart she'd had left, that she'd hidden away. It was like he'd known how to charm her from the start.
It still was fun. Every moment together. She just wondered what would take it away, when.
Iesaryth didn't have her problems - Aishani suspected the gold slept better alongside Vhaeryth. Not all that helpful, though she couldn't begrudge the dragon some rest, after all she'd ended up having to do, just to help carry the Weyr through more lies.
She didn't want to wake him. Or her. Any of them. She eased herself carefully back down into the blankets, closing her eyes, trying to shut out anything but the sheer comfort of his body next to hers. Even the way it made her feel.
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