Sairis's POV
She stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"
"I said I am hungry," he repeated. "I have not eaten properly in six weeks and that bread your men keep bringing me is not food, it is a structural material. My hands are not steady and my head is not clear and you want me to draw you a precise trade route from memory."
He picked up the quill and held it up so she could see the slight shake in his fingers. "How precise do you think this is going to be if I draw it right now in this condition?"
Greta looked at his hand.
He could see her calculating. The same calculation she made every time he pushed back, weighing what she wanted against what she actually needed from him to get it.
"You are bargaining with me," she said.
"I am explaining practical limitations," he said. "Get me something warm to eat. Something that my body can actually use."
