Luckily for them both, Trahearne's first instinct was to retreat, not to lash out. He jerked his foot away from Tannusen's hand, which felt so awful, clammy and dead to his half awake mind. Panic coursing through him, he pushed himself up and back, smacking his shoulders into the wall behind his bed and knocking some sense into himself.

Pupils blown wide in fear, he stared at Tannusen, the fae's pale face slowly taking on a less horrifying visage than what he expected to be peering at him in the dark. Just Tannusen. His breathing was ragged and his throat itched from the cold air and shouting. How pathetic.

The panic hadn't yet left him as he slumped against the wall, expression turning sour and shamed. His dreams betrayed him when he wanted to keep all of that hidden, controlled.

"Thank you," he said quietly.