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Chrisdean let out a long-suffering sigh, a hand coming up to comb through his hair. He didn’t know why he was even trying with Nimue since she had made it crystal clear that she hated him. Perhaps he should simply give her some space, he thought, but deep down, he knew it would only make things worse. He didn’t want her to try and escape again, and so he didn’t want her to think that he wasn’t keeping an eye on her.
“Verra weel, do as ye please,” Chrisdean said as he returned to his spot on the ground, at the other side of the fire. “But we leave at first light, so I’d get some sleep if I were ye.”
“I was sleepin’ just fine before ye woke me up!” Nimue hissed.
“Ye were havin’ a nightmare!”
“Will the two of ye stop yer bickerin’?”
Brock’s sudden interruption put an end to Chrisdean’s conversation with Nimue. Chrisdean mumbled an apology, and he heard Nimue do the same, much to his surprise. Brock seemed to make friends everywhere he went, while Chrisdean always had trouble being around other people—especially people who seemed to have a vendetta against him, like Nimue.
Sleep evaded him for a long time still, his mind filled with images of Nimue and fragments of their conversation. How would he ever get her to like him? And if she never came to like him, how could he live his whole life with someone who hated him?
