The Tyrant's Tomb

couldn’t tell. Tomorrow I’d have to decide what to say to her. Tonight, I’d let
her sleep.
I crawled into my own cot, sure that I’d be tossing and turning until
morning.
Instead, I passed out immediately.
When I woke, the early morning sunlight was in my face. Meg’s cot was
empty. I realized I’d slept like the dead—no dreams, no visions. That did not
comfort me. When the nightmares go silent, that usually means something
else is coming—something even worse.
I dressed and gathered my supplies, trying not to think about how tired I
was, or how much my gut hurt. Then I grabbed a muffin and a coffee from
Bombilo and went out to find my friends. Today, one way or another, the fate
of New Rome would be decided.