She's still lounging like she has no care in the world, but at his words her expression seems to shift into one more... sad. To add to that, she doesn't respond right away, taking her time to drink some more wine.

When she finishes, her cup's empty, and she lets her hand rest on her thigh. "I only have one request," she begins earnestly, her recent playfulness gone. She almost wants to turn away, embarrassed at the weakness she's about to admit, but if they are to be wed and she is to be his queen, she needs to earn his trust. "Most nights I do not sleep well. Sometimes not at all." She keeps her gaze on him. "Will you hold me, if the terrors come?"

For she still dreams of her father, who'd fallen on his sword in his disgrace. Of the asp she'd smuggled into her mother's chambers and ultimately killed her. Of the gold chains on her wrists and the march of shame she and her twin brother had to endure. Of her little brother wilting away as he's taken by disease. Of the night she'd stolen the Shard from the Temple of the Vestals and led one of the temple maidens to lose her sight. Of Tiberius—

She might not have had to face the Dead, but her nights have been dark and full of terrors.