As before, unbidden images of Nevana came to Ralph’s mind. If only he’d given in to her, he would be laying now with her at his side, in post-coital comfort, bliss, and exhaustion . . .
And as before, such images evoked feelings of guilt and betrayal toward the small form pressed so fervently to his side.
He did feel something for Malina. That had finally become clear to him in the Hall of the Thane, when, terrified as she was, she had got up in front of all those people who hated her . . .
At that moment, when she had squared her small shoulders and set her jaw, had fought down her terror and began to speak; in Ralph’s eyes she had suddenly seemed to grow . . .
At the same time, assessing himself, he wondered, ‘How could I even consider letting someone like that down? Or allowing myself to feel the way I do towards Nevana?’ He huffed at his own thoughts. ‘Letting myself feel! What am I saying? I have about as much control over my feelings as I do over the dawn!’ Mulling this over a little longer, however, he thought, ‘Yes, well, that may be. But I can control how I act!’
Suddenly wide-awake, and realizing that he was hungry, he moved, hoping to shift himself from underneath Malina without waking her. She awoke almost instantly, however, stretched, lifted her head, and to his surprise, looked at him worriedly. ‘Rowf getting too bony,’ she said in English.