As she pressed, a dull, throbbing ache turned into a sharp, clear note of relief. It felt like wringing out a sponge. A trickle of warm fluid shifted at the back of her throat—the dreaded, yet glorious, post-nasal drip of success.
“Close your eyes,” he said softly. “We’re going to give the dwarves an eviction notice.”
Elara glared. “Unless ‘pressure point’ means hitting my head against the wall, no.”