Kion never dreamed.
For the first time since his reincarnation, he didn't feel the pull of his dreamscape, or the gathered collective energy of bloodlust.
He slept normally, and while that may have been the most peaceful feeling he'd ever had during his sleep, Kion was furious.
Tyril never showed up, like he should've.
Penelope observed the prince, wondering where his calm and composed countenance had vanished to.
He seemed to be on edge, almost like he would explode with fire any second.
Penelope did not like the idea of that.
"My prince, if I may? You seem dehydrated after your nap. Why don't you have some water from the flagon I got you?"
Kion stared pointedly at the satchel for what seemed to be forever.
"I'm not thirsty." He said. "Do you happen to know any sleeping remedies. I need to get back to sleep now."
