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It’s a long moment before Elisaf answers. “You breathe as loudly as a daaknar, Your Highness.” There is a teasing lilt in his voice.
“I doubt it. Have you heard one of those things breathe?” The memory of its grunts and snuffles stirs a shudder through my body.
“If I had ever been that close, I wouldn’t be guarding your door tonight.”
“That’s what they tell me,” I murmur, more to myself. “Did you grow up in Islor?”
“No. I am from the far southwest of Seacadore originally. But I have been here so long, I now consider this my home.”
I hesitate. “Didn’t the king tell you not to speak to me?”
“The king told me to guard you with my life and ensure you do not escape. He didn’t expressly forbid me from speaking to you.” There’s a long pause. “Rest well, Your Highness.”
I smile. It’s a dismissal, but a pleasant one. “Good night, Elisaf.”
