She swallowed the bite of pastry, her pale fingers gripping the fabric of her robes tight enough to turn her knuckles white. She closed her eyes, leaning her head heavily against the wooden frame of the carriage, desperately trying to control her breathing so the Marquis wouldn't notice.
'It is fine,' Heena gritted out internally, the telepathic words strained and heavy. 'Just a migraine.'
"It is not just a migraine, and you know it," the System whispered, floating helplessly beside her cheek. "Host, you need to rest. Real rest. No more scheming for today."
For once, Heena didn't argue. The darkness behind her eyelids was swirling with pain. She just focused on the rhythmic, rumbling sound of the carriage wheels, letting the darkness pull her down into a fitful, exhausted sleep.
When the carriage finally rolled through the heavy iron gates of the Vanguard estate, the sun was fully up, casting a bright, golden light over the sprawling manor.
The carriage came to a smooth halt.
