"That's what I like to hear, the proper fear of your lord," Blackvayne said, releasing her from his grip and the dream.<br/><br/>When she spoke, Geraint was asleep, but her voice brought him close to wakefulness.  "What are you talking about, Vara?"  He focused, forced himself all the way awake.  "Did you have a nightmare?"  He almost laughed, stopped.  He was prone to nightmares, himself, starting in the night covered in sweat, the darkness of the dream clinging to him in wakefulness.  He thought about how he would want someone to talk to him.  "Tell me about it.  Let's chase it away together.  Do you want me to turn on the light?"  His had found her backside, squeezed.  "Or help you to forget in a different way."