Chapter 97: Hell Gate, Part 3
Kristof tried to reply to that, especially the jibe about being pretty because he was painfully aware he was no such thing and Håkon was the prettiest person he had ever seen. But it felt like something was lodged in his throat, and his tongue heavy and thick. Every step was a chore, and with every breath the world seemed increasingly gray and fuzzy. Giving up, Kristof let Håkon drag him away.
Somewhere between walking to his horse and mounting up he must have blacked out because he had no memory of the walk. Håkon mounted in front of him and pulled Kristof's arms around his waist. "Is this going to become a tradition of ours, Your Grace? You collapsing and me keeping you on your horse?"
Again Kristof had a retort he could not voice, managed only a grunt that made Håkon give a soft laugh.