Rowen Fómhar
Looking at me unseeingly through narrow slits, her eyelids that were a darker duskier tone than her skin that looked too warm to belong to these regions of the realm, shut to hide the glazed-over darkness that made her pupils nearly unidentifiable in darker lighting.
I gave her shoulder another squeeze and watched as she transformed before me, feeling the change take place under my hand. Her lax, sleep-loosened muscles instantly hardened. I only felt her shift slightly before her arm rose, slipping between us to dislodge my hand. Surprise had her succeeding. Thinking better than to reach for her again, I pulled my hand that stung from her strike back as she turned her body.
Sinking into the corner of the sofa, she tried to put as much distance as she could between us while curling her knees up to her chest defensively. She twisted, moving her feet out in case she needed to kick me away from her, while her hands rose to shield her head from any incoming strikes.
I began to roll my eyes. Did she really think I was like my mother and would so easily jump to cutting her head-
"D-dad?"
The small voice that stammered past her lips had my body locking in place. My eyes snapped back to hers, taking in the way she was rapidly blinking them to clear the tears and sleep that were making it difficult for her to see. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been mistaking me for her father whom she felt the need to cower away from.
My hands curled into fists where they hung between my knees. "No, it's Rowan."
"R-Rowan?" My name came out sounding like a whisper strangled by fear.
A crack sounded from one of my knuckles as my fists tightened.
May blinked hard, setting loose the tears that were blinding her. I watched as they trailed down her cheeks before disappearing down the curve of her jaw to come together and join. My eyes flicked up to hers, meeting them as they widened with recognition. The confusion cleared from her features as she snapped back into the present.
As facts straightened in her head, so did her rigid spine. She sat up straight, pulling the lumpy duvet up to cover the pointed droops of her breasts that were visible under the thin material of the rumpled shift that sweat had clinging to her skin. The thick material of her dress lay in a crumpled heap by my feet, hiding other scraps of fabric not fit for sleeping.
"What were you dreaming of?" I found myself asking despite knowing better. I knew I wouldn't get an answer, but I couldn't get the way she had looked and sounded out of my head.
She cleared her throat and hugged her knees as she pressed back into the cushioned back of the seat. No traces of sleep clung to her and the only exhaustion I could see lingering was in the dark circles surrounding her wide and alert eyes and in the unhealthy pallor of her complexion.
Her nostrils flared in alarm, the action involuntarily seeing as she was careful to keep every other aspect of her reaction under control. "Nothing," she lied with practiced ease.
I was going to need to watch her and everything she said a little closer.
I hummed, my eyes drifting down her cracked lips to land on her sweat-soaked neckline. "You have a fever. It's high."
Pulling the duvet her hands were clutching higher to hide from my gaze, she released one of them to reach up to her forehead. She tried to hide the grimace that tugged at her lips when she touched the sweat that was glistening in the faint light but wasn't entirely successful. I watched it pull down the corners of her lips as she ignored the unpleasant wet sensation.
