Did he regret it, his survival? Eragos could not have said, and was not sure that he wanted to. What he'd said to Bahn... it was the truth. Eragos Feareborne deserved to die. It was nothing as simple as that, of course, but... how could he be pleased that such a miserable life would go on, while a life that could have been worth something was cut short. She was right, of course, and distantly he was aware of that. Mistakes were to be learned from and then promptly forgotten. His chest did not stop aching for the news delivered so urgently, nor for the food she'd promised to him. Strength to ride. He did not care if he fell out of the saddle. He would not eat today, no matter how many times she hurled a tray or foul words at him. Eragos did not think she understood what he'd tried to tell her, or she wouldn't be here. Would be off playing adventurer with someone. She was going to dine out on the story of the dragon alone for six months. White Riders did love legends and tales. Eragos had no stomach for them. At least, not stories about himself and his own deeds. A fictional one...
...that was a different story.
"Ride? To Simanel?" Eragos asked roughly.
She nodded.
Of course. A report to the Captain. Bahn would be back in Illos by now, no doubt, unless he'd come all the way to Oisea with them. Eithne seemed to think they were farther away than that. Didn't matter, either. Conlan Agrippa was not known for his pleasant nature or sound and warm camaraderie. Not that he should be. If for no other reason than facing Agrippa, he needed to collect himself and prepare for the journey ahead. It was going to be a long ride. A longer report. Nothing but his own misery as company, his own failures to show him the way. Eragos despised with all of his heart the very idea that ... that he should just forget. What was the alternative? Kill himself? Or just make himself suffer for it, over and over, a man living out a penance? That was after all the reason he was still alive in the first place. Penance in this world, to be completed when he was dead, in the worst hell the dragon god could devise.
None of it mattered, but he hadn't wanted to hear it. It would have been too much.
"I'll eat. We'll leave in the morning."
If it was what she wanted to hear, that was good enough.