Mesmerizing

"Nngh… Esmae?" Daniel felt as though he was coming out of a vivid dream he couldn't shake. Determined to hold on to sleep, he heaved a great sigh, burying his face in his folded arms.

The memories were muddled and odd--a lovely miniature woman in a mulberry dress, witch contracts, missing fairy wings--but he was too drowsy to decipher it all.

A faint soreness throbbing on his back finally dragged him from the arms of sleep. He was not in his bed, but hunched rather uncomfortably over a desk and using an open book as a pillow. Peering past his arms, he blinked blearily at his surroundings. Of the candles gathered at the edge of the desk, one had burnt itself out and the others were well on their way to doing the same. Stacks of scrolls and leather-bound books littered the rest of the space. A particularly old tome lay open farther in front of him, abandoned.

All at once, he knew the strange memories couldn't be a dream.

"Esmae," he murmured groggily, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand as he straightened. She'd been on top of the old book near the window, poring over the text last he'd seen her. "Esmae?"

Fear gripped his heart. He nearly wrenched himself out of his seat to scan the floor, certain she had fled from him the moment he had fallen asleep. He should have known she was still frightened enough of him to take the first opportunity to leave.

Before he could begin formulating how he could possibly track down a six-inch person in the vastness of the palace, his eyes landed on a small figure huddled on the corner of the book he had been laying on.

The adrenaline pounding through his veins lessened, but his heart stayed in his throat as he froze and looked her over.

She slept on her side, legs tucked beneath the tattered skirts of her red gown. Scrapes and faint bruises dotted her arms and shoulders like battle scars from the ordeal she'd faced the past four days, fending for herself within the walls of the castle. The candlelight flickered over her peaceful expression, as if for the time being, she let go of the terror she had experienced.

The terror Daniel had contributed to.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, though she was fast asleep and had already accepted his apology.

There had been a near feral look in her eyes when he'd discovered her hiding under the dining table that evening, desperate to escape his hands at every turn. It was a wonder she wanted anything to do with him after he'd snatched her up so instinctively. It seemed she hadn't lied about forgiving him, for she felt safe enough to sleep so close. So vulnerably close.

Or she was just cold.

That seemed far more likely, but he was mesmerized by her bravery all the same.

After sleeping within the walls--if she had managed to find sleep at all--she deserved something more comfortable than a dusty old book. A single pillow on his bed would suffice, he decided.

Daniel hesitated as he looked her tiny figure up and down, knowing his plan meant he had to pick her up. It either meant waking her, or trying to move her in her sleep. Neither choice sat well with him, but in the end, he couldn't bring himself to purposely disturb her rest. Not while she wore that tranquil expression.

He braced himself and reached for her, but it wasn't until his fingertips were bare inches away that her terrified face flashed through his mind. His hand faltered and hovered just short of her. He'd had no trouble holding her before, but those moments had been swift, adrenaline-fueled.

In the quiet stillness, he couldn't make himself pluck her up.

A moment of deliberation later, he carefully tilted the book. Esmae slid backwards onto his waiting hand and stirred, little limbs caressing his skin and sending shivers up his arm. He held his breath, an apology waiting at his lips as she adjusted herself, but she did not wake. She settled into the curve of his hand, her tiny cheek pressing into the middle of his index finger while locks of her dark hair spilled over the side.

The wingless fairy sighed and fell still, unperturbed; meanwhile, Daniel's heart pounded so furiously, it was a wonder his pulse didn't jolt her into consciousness. The poor thing must have been truly exhausted to not wake from being handled.

Never had a fairy been within reach of him. He gave into the aching curiosity that begged him to lift her closer to his gaze, amazed that she appeared perfectly comfortable in his open hand. Her long eyelashes didn't so much as twitch, and her rose lips remained slightly parted with smooth breaths moving in and out.

He scolded himself silently, determined not to take advantage of her slumbering state by holding her longer than necessary to satisfy his interest. She was a person, not an inanimate doll to be admired.

Cupping his other hand for added security, Daniel slid out of his chair and lifted Esmae close to his chest. His gaze jumped back and forth between her and his path to the door, as if she might vanish into nothing more than a dream if he wasn't careful.

But she was real, and so were her troubles, her fears. She deserved to sleep safely, and he was going to make sure of it.