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"Do you have any idea why they are killing them?" Eleanor asked, wrapped in numerous sheets, lying on the ground.

Yes. He had made sure to take the bed and leave her to lie on the ground where he felt she deserved to be.

She had whined for the better half of the night, complaining about how the ground was hard and cold, and he had blissfully ignored her until she got tired and stayed put.

She was exhausted, but she couldn't sleep. So she had taken to asking him questions, and funnily enough, he had been responsive. It would seem she wasn't alone in being unable to sleep.

"No," he said after a moment's hesitation, and Eleanor blinked back at the darkness as she said, "You're lying."

"And if I am? There is little you can do about it. Not that you even care for the state of the people in these lands," his voice returned to her in the dark and Eleanor flipped on her belly to look in the direction of the bed.

"Why does it constantly feel like you are judging me?"