"A mercenary would enjoy the comfort of wine and women after such a journey, and Astora has certainly rolled out the best for the wedding," Vera said, not turning immediately to look at him. Her voice was smooth and light. She was teasing him. How well he would take to it was beyond her. "If you plan to continue in this profession of yours, you need to play the part a little better, Eragos."
Her fingers, free of gloves, ran along the binding of an old book. It wasn't a story book, like so many of the ones across the room. It was one that must have been used for studies in the past, on agriculture and flowers. She tugged it free and felt the dust glide across her palm from the movement.
Reading was one of the many things that kept her from being intoxicated. Her distrust of victory was another. Until she saw her Captain, until she saw High Lord Arand, she wouldn't accept it. For Astora and Malondir the fight was done. They had to believe that if they wanted their actions to carry any meaning. But she would keep looking behind her, all the way to Simanel.
Her paranoia seemed silly. Especially standing in a room with Eragos who had killed a knight with lightning. High Lord Arand's words had haunted her throughout this journey. She'd won. She hadn't wavered and yet she'd never lacked so much confidence. Vera could still feel the words in the stiffness of her shoulders. The soldiers viewed her as some sort of monk. The songs all made her seemunreal. If they'd known how many mistakes she'd made before Malondir...if they'd seen how she'd killed men, she wouldn't seem so perfect then. Would she? If they'd known how much she'd like to be intoxicated, like any other wayward teenager, they couldn't respect her the same way.
"I am afraid I will not be very entertaining," Vera said. She held the book against her chest and looked up at him. "Sober or otherwise."