Through the haze of her fever, Caelith sensed him lift his free hand. It hovered above her head. For a brief moment, it seemed as though he wanted to touch her hair. Then it looked as though he might push her away.
The hand lingered there for a long time, suspended in uncertainty.
In the end, it slowly descended, gently and carefully. His palm came to rest against her back. Through the thin blanket, he patted her softly. Again.
And again.
Like someone soothing a frightened child after a nightmare.
Half asleep, Caelith smiled faintly.
"Rhaegar... you're so good to me..."
The hand on her back stilled, only for a heartbeat. Then it resumed its slow, careful rhythm.
Erian sat beside the bed and watched her quietly. Moonlight filtered through the narrow lattice window, scattering silver across her face.
