“A mouthful only, taken when you wake each morning,” she said.

He looked at the flask in surprise. “For me?”

She inclined her head. “It gives untroubled sleep,” she said simply.

He was glad of the cool stone in his hands, absorbing the sudden heat that rose from his palms. Had anyone else said it, he would only be confused. But it was her, the angel from his fever dream, who had held a cup to his mouth and commanded him to drink. Now she stood before him, the white veil falling around her face and her gray eyes that saw through him, and called his sleep fitful.

He carefully let out a breath. “I sleep well.”

She only looked at him, neither denying it nor agreeing.

“I tell you, Gwenllian, never have I slept so sound.”

Her eyes slid to the left – looking, he realized, for anyone who might be near enough to hear them. But they were alone.

“Aye, is a sound sleep for much of the night,” she agreed. “Yet often do your dreams disturb it.”

He stared at some plant near her feet, a cluster of woody stems covered in purple blossoms, and swallowed hard around the knot in his chest. It had grown larger and heavier, like the flask in his hand.

“It disturbs me not, lady. But it wakes you.”

He wondered if he thrashed about, or cried out. He had done both, years ago. In the years just after Aymer’s death, he had woken himself with it. But he had thought it long past.

Her face softened, and her hand came up to curl gently around his on the flask, warm and sure.

“Nay, it only disturbs me that I must watch you in distress, or end it by waking you.” Her fingers traced his, her eyes roaming over his face. “It leaves you careworn.”

“It must be dire indeed, to touch my vanity,” he observed with a smile. But she would not be moved to humor.

“Your dreams trouble you.” Her eyes searched his. “Do you not remember them, when you wake?”

He did not. When he woke to find her beside him each morning, he felt only gladness that no evil spirit had stolen her away in the night, that still she stayed with him.

He shook his head and looked down at the flask. “It will bring me sleep at night though I drink it at morning?”

“I know not. I have not used it before. Is an old remedy, not for sleep but for a peaceful spirit, both day and night.” She looked at him steadily. “In daylight too are you restless.”