Caspian reached up and brushed her hand away gently. "It's nothing," he assured her. Though his voice was as calm as ever, its usual smoothness was gone, replaced with a slight rasp as if talking was taking a great effort on his part. "I'll manage until we return."
But Elara wasn't convinced. She could see the weariness tugging at the corners of his eyes, the strain he fought to keep hidden from everyone around him. In the novel, one of the only true passages discussing Caspian's character went as follows: Caspian was a master of composure. He had to be. To alleviate his alienated mother and ensure he didn't further damage the reputation of his King father, Caspian learned to compose himself far earlier at most. He did not scream at the hands of the Queen's abuse. He did not cry as he buried his mother. He did not complain as the Queen sent him away to war. And never, not once, did he flinch as he killed his enemies.