Chapter 13: Knives in the Dark

His sleep wasn’t restful in the days that followed their return to the road. It felt as if every mile closer they got to the Crownlands, the more his rest was disrupted. It was restless, fitful even, for Eris. He would awake with bleary eyes and his head throbbing twice a night, sometimes thrice. Marion always assured him, though often slept through his fitful movement.

Eris was grateful that the elf slept through much of his quiet distress. Afterall, for all he trusted Marion, he wasn’t sure they would understand. What was there to understand? That he was suffering from trace amounts of kingsteel left behind in his wounds? Wounds that he had tried his best not to touch or scratch or even notice. Those wounds made him notice though. They demanded his attention, demanded his energy. They ached, always, but especially so during the night.