I dreamt of him again.
I couldn't remember the details of the dream, but I knew I had spoken to Eragon in my dreams. It had happened for the fifth night in a row, and somehow I felt like each dream was more real than the last.
Today however, I was woken up abruptly by the sound of someone slithering into my room.
"Woah!" Marina gasped as she paused at the entrance. "You can drop the dagger. It's just me."
It had become a habit of mine, one which I wasn't proud of. My dagger always lay underneath my pillow, and at the slightest sound my hand would automatically reach for it even if I was half-asleep.
My eyes darted towards Marina, whose hands were raised in mock surrender. She waited until I lowered the blade before she walked in.
"You seem tense," she said. "Is something wrong?"
