He made an effort—or tried to: the smooth, sweet tide of sleep swept over him to the eyelids, leaving him still and breathing evenly on his pillow.
The two girls leaned over and looked down at him.
“Thy dear lord,” murmured Yulun. “Does he love thee, rose-bud of Yian?”
“No,” said Tressa, under her breath.
“Does he know thou art damned, heart of gold?”
“He says no soul is ever really harmed,” whispered Tressa.
“Kai! Has he never heard of the Slayer of Souls?” exclaimed Yulun incredulously.
“My lord maintains that neither the Assassin of Khorassan nor the Sheiks-el-Djebel of the Eight Towers, nor their dark prince Erlik, can have power over God to slay the human soul.”
“Tokhta, Rose of Yian! Our souls were slain there in the Yezidee temple.”
Tressa looked down at Cleves: