Talek's spine quivered with every jolt of the carriage as it trundled along the uneven road toward the capital. The last he'd heard from the coachman, they were close, just a few more road until the towers would rise into view.
He looked down at his tunic, rich silk dyed deep green, the most refined piece in his possession. A thread had come loose near the cuff. Frowning, he caught it between thumb and forefinger, and slowly began to pull. The strand unwound itself like a vein unraveling beneath skin, long and stubborn.
He wrapped the thread around his index finger, then tightened it again and again, applying pressure until it bit into the flesh.
Gods how bored he was...
Finally, with a sharp twist, it snapped and his hand shot forward with the motion, slamming hard against the carriage wall.
That made him yelp. His hand spasmed, pain shooting up through the bridge of his palm to his wrist.
He winced and cradled the throbbing hand against his chest, fingers trembling.
