It took several minutes for him to recover enough to push himself up from where he had collapsed. He sat back on his legs and tilted his head back to release one last shuddering breath, the very last of his anxiety dissipating evenly in the crisp evening air. All around them he could hear the insects and the animals calmly going on about their business as if nothing had ever gone amiss. It was a very comforting thought, though he could already feel the embarrassment creeping up his face, returning a bit of color to an otherwise pale face. “I am very sorry,” Alcuin murmured quietly. “I do not know what came over me.”
“This is not like me at all,” he shook his head. What would Rolande, or Anafiel have said? He was acting like some sort of unruly, frightened child instead of a highly trained slave. It was unacceptable; he knew better than that. “I am sorry.”