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CHAPTER TWO

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CHAPTER TWO

your little hand's wrapped around my finger.


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The first lesson Rhysand learned while being a father is that sleep was for the weak. Or so Elayla apparently thought.

She'd spend hours to an end just staring at him, making sounds that made absolutely no sense, until he dared to move.

Gods, he hated it when it made her cry. It'd tear at his heart, the tears on her full cheeks, the wobble on her bottom lip, the brokenness in her big curious eyes. "Come on, Little Love." He pleaded, rocking her gently. "Please go to sleep."

He was tired, confused, disappointed with himself, why was she not cooperating? What did he do wrong?

"No." She shook her head, putting her small hands on his cheeks. "No seep!"

For a split second, he contemplated winnowing to Morrigan's house and letting her deal with his kid, since she was apparently the only one who got her calm enough to catch some hours of sleep.

"Okay, okay." He smoothed her ebony dark hair, "no sleep, we'll just close our eyes, you and me. Can you do that for Baba, Lays?" He couldn't help but almost laugh at the situation, the most powerful High Lord in Prythian begging a barely two year old child for a few hours of rest.

She blinked at him. She was used to that title by now, the Illyrian endearment for father's. He's been trying to get her into saying that exact word for weeks now. "Close your eyes, baby." He whispered. "Please, just close your eyes." He breathed out tiredly.

She kept babbling for a few moments before laying down on his torso, he rubbed her back gently, afraid that a single move of his bigger, rougher hand would startle her.

Little by little, sleep found the both of them, and neither could fight it. He managed to leave a kiss on her small chubby hand. "Good night, my little Nightingale." He whispered.

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