He had been sitting in the chair beside the bed. He was not sleeping, had not slept, had not intended to sleep, had spent the hours since the bond flared watching her breathe with the focused attention of someone standing guard over something that had nearly been touched by something unclean. His elbows rested on his knees. His eyes remained fixed on her face, tracking the subtle movements of her features, the rise and fall of her chest, the small sounds she made in the depths of sleep.
He had felt the ritual starting again twenty minutes ago.
