“Who are you?” he whispered. “Who are you that you could possess such a gift and survive? To walk out of the breach relatively unscathed, and with this stowaway. What makes you so very special?”
She stirred again, tension in her arm pulling her hand slightly away from his. “Too many eyes,” she breathed in her sleep. Solas felt an electric chill run down his spine. He reached across, took her chin in his hand, and turned her face back toward him. With disappointment, he saw her eyes remained firmly closed.
“What had too many eyes?” he murmured. “What do you see?”