He didn't mind waiting for the Queen. He trusted her more than anyone, even himself, despite the fact that she had apparently kept everyone in a hoax. She must have good reason for it, right? 
	
	Mikhael lay in the cot with a blank expression, his eyes pointed to the ceiling the passing hours, watching the shadows and lit fight over the dim room. It was a mesmerizing affair, the tug and pull of the two intangible forces restlessly at war for control. He felt exhausted and taxed both within and out, but was unable to find any sleep. He had been through more than he had in a long time in this one afternoon, his mind swirling with thoughts he was without the talent to acquaint words with. He was not used to caring about something or the bitterness of failure. It stung him, like an irritating itch underneath his skin where he couldn't ever reach. He tried lifting his arm once or twice in idleness, as though unable to accept the missing limb or to remind himself. Hearing the two men placed watch over him arguing suddenly, he turned his dull red eyes at them. 

"So the Queen has kept you in the dark too...?" he muttered, "Or is there something you actually know? For some reason, I feel as though I'm being held captive rather than as a recuperating guest."

...