ERIS
It was quiet. The kind of quiet that swallowed its own echo.
The inn had gone still hours ago.
Somewhere down the hall, I could hear the faint, uneven rhythm of someone snoring, probably one of the knights who'd drunk too much.
Mira was curled up in the adjoining room, breathing softly, and Jorel had passed out on the floor by the hearth before I even finished writing my notes.
But I was still awake.
No matter how heavy my body felt, my eyes refused to close.
The candle at my desk had burned low, the wax pooling unevenly. My fingers were stained with ink. I'd been scribbling nonsense for the better part of an hour, thoughts, fragments, half-formed lists of what I'd need to prepare once we reached Nevareth.
Vetra. Diplomats. Adjusting to their customs. How to keep myself from accidentally offending an entire court before breakfast.
But concentration was impossible.
