"Aid, are you alright?"
He showed great discomfort at my concern. He closed his eyes and rolled to the side to avoid my scrutiny. "Be quiet. I'm just tired."
Tired? Aidan Bathory said he was tired? Something was definitely off.
"Let me see your face," I turned to the other side of the automobile to see him. He immediately rolled around, but I had seen enough.
The glow in his ever-so-radiant amber eyes had dulled considerably. His pupils shrunk.
"Did you, by any chance, inhale the outside air?" I pushed.
"Ugh. I'm fine, Tes. You worry too much. They cut the oxygen in Zone A last night. My folks warned me against exercising—haaah... like it's something I could do."
The free supply reduction only happened yesterday. It was impossible that he got worse overnight as he claimed. It must be the effect of his headache.
