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There had to be a way to help her sleep, if only to stop the constant disruptions. Something that didn’t involve compelling her emotions—since, to her credit, she hadn’t tried to kill him since the beginning of the trek. Jarek might be morally unsalvageable, but he was fair.

“Attacking someone while they’re sleeping is a sign of cowardice,” he said. Lilith winced, looking at him as if he’d insulted her. Jarek averted his gaze. “Which I am not.”

“Good to know,” she responded, cautiously. The wrinkle of her coat pulled his attention back to her standing. “If I’m also being honest, it’s not that. It’s everything else”—she motioned to the woods—“and my delirium, apparently.”

Lilith was more experienced with this environment and tracking than he was, but if there were an animal, he would’ve noticed it by now. She had to be seeing things. For a true Imordial, no matter how irresponsible, he didn’t know if that was a bad sign or not.

“You’re tired,” he told her. “It’s not unheard of that you may be seeing things.”

“You’re right.” She crossed her arms, watching him for far too long, making his pulse beat faster.

“Is there… anything else?”

She dropped her head and tapped the tip of her boot on the ground. “Healing knocks Luka unconscious. I assume to give the Guardian's influence; he would normally draw it from his own energy since that’s what it’s like for me…” she trailed off and started again. “We tried taking the life force from other things, plants mostly, as a substitution. It works, but it can still make him overly tired if he doesn’t use enough.”

Jarek’s eyes widened with shock, and he was unsure how to respond. “Unconscious? For how long?”

She caressed her wrist and pressed her thumb on the inside. “Longest was about two days.”

Two days? That couldn’t be right. But why would she lie? In fact, she wasn’t. The Guardian was split into two pieces, just as it was when it was only he and Valen. When he was allowed to heal, he remembered it being taxing, but rendering him unconscious? Never. After Caine was born, Valen suddenly banned the practice.

“Has he mentioned anything else about Ironfall?” Jarek’s mouth went dry, but he pushed past it. “Any other family?”

“A few things, yes.” Lilith smiled to the ground, this time with teeth. “But I’ve fulfilled my promise, and sleep doesn’t sound so bad anymore. I think I’ll give it a try.”

“You can’t—You’re still on about this answer-for-an-answer ploy?”

“Ploy?” She swayed in place on her heels. “Yes. I am.”

Damn his curiosity. “Fine, but the questions can’t be… complex.”

“Typically there aren’t rules for this sort of thing, but I can live with that.” She bit her lip and looked to the sky. “If my questions can’t be complex, then yours can’t be related to Luka.”

“That’s not—”

“Fair? Well, gods Draven, you made the rule.”

“Damn it.” He groaned. Why is she making this so difficult? “If you have information relating to the inner workings of Failen, you’ll have to give it up eventually.”

“And I’m sure I will. I don’t know if that should be to you, alone.”

What did that mean? She would tell him, if he what? Played nice? Isn’t that what he was doing? He just told her he wasn’t going to hurt her! How much nicer could he get?

Her tone drifted from playful to serious. “You’ll have to wait, or you can make me want to tell you. Your choice.”

Frustrated and amused, Jarek didn’t hide his laugh this time. “I heard quite a bit, although no one mentioned how persistent you are.” He dropped back into his spot in the grass, hand under his head and against his bag. “Why try at all?”

“Because you let me.” The coat crinkled from her shrug. “And it’s all I can do.”

“Go to sleep.”

She strode for a few steps, then halted. “I’m not evil enough to leave Luka here. So if I run off chasing ghosts or whatever it is Ashin folk do for a hobby, I’ll come back.”

He let himself grin, knowing she couldn’t see it. “Good night, Evelian.”

“Sleep tight, Hazevale.”

Sleep, even as a sordid, undead being, was welcome. It came very little since waking from the Coffers, perhaps the reason being he’d done three hundred years of it, or the fact the suffering from a lack of it was, at most, a prickly attitude for him. But every so often it came, and he appreciated the time, even if it was curled up in the dirt.