Sairis's POV
The door opened and the light hit him before he was ready for it.
Sairis had not been fully asleep. He had not been fully asleep in six weeks and he doubt he could even sleep without Loreen beside him.
He simply existed in a state somewhere between rest and wakefulness that left him exhausted in a way that proper sleep would have fixed and proper sleep was not something available to him in this room, on this bed, with these people moving outside the door at irregular hours and the fire that no one maintained properly dying down to nothing every night.
He kept his eyes closed for two more seconds.
Then he opened them.
Two of Greta's men stood in the doorway. The taller one had bread in his hand, a flat hard piece of it that Sairis recognised from the previous five mornings because it looked identical every time, like it had been made once and divided indefinitely.
He pushed himself up on one elbow.
