Naaramare glanced at Meneli out of the corner of her eye, concerned. The other did not seem entirely steady, as if she had some wound or weakness she was attempting to hide. But Naaramare could not find any way to broach the subject, so she turned her attention to the unconscious Estelarion.
He did not seem to be dying, and one of those maddening past-feelings backed up that idea. So long as nothing futher disastrous happened, he would make it through.
Which is good, I think, she said to herself. Meneli seems to be attached to him. She smiled to herself. It's good to see others happy. I just wish . . .
But she never finished the thought as rough hands pinned her arms and covered her mouth, stopping her from crying out.
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