Darkness pressed around Katelina and, as horrible as it was, it was better than what she'd just seen. Jorick's memory was better than hers, if memory it was, and the images were too clear and too vivid. Patrick, his body not even cold, and his brother snarling threats. How much of that was real, and how much just a trick of sleep?
Jorick stirred beneath her. She couldn't see him open his eyes, though she knew that he had. She waited for him to comment on the dream, or explain it, but he only asked quietly, "Sleep well?"
If he didn't want to talk about it, then neither did she. She'd learned there were things she didn't need to know. "Yeah. Best sleep I've ever had."
He didn't answer, but tried to wrap his arm around her, accidentally pulling her hair.
"Ouch!" She jerked involuntarily and smashed her nose against his chest. "Can we get out of here?"
"Oh, all right," he replied impatiently. "But you might make an effort at this, you know."