I needed a drink.
Chapter 70
Faylinn
Iholed up in my room for the remainder of the day. Periodically calling down for more wine and then bread when I needed to soak up the alcohol in my stomach. I waffled between anger, sadness, and hysteria, then back again.
I took a bath as soon as I returned to my room, but never bothered to redress or tame my hair afterward. Instead, I lay around in my undergarments and left my hair wild around my shoulders while I drowned my thoughts in wine.
Gods, life was fucked sideways.
Did I regret coming here? Yes. But also no.
If I stayed in Isrun, Ben would’ve died, and I wouldn’t have discovered the cure for Mage Sickness.
But I also could’ve left the interest in Rohak as a simple connection with a brooding, grumpy man and would never have gotten to see Ben with someone else.
But Ben would’ve died.
Round and round my thoughts went until I couldn’t take it anymore and I screamed, throwing my glass of wine against the wall. It shattered like the pieces of my heart, wine falling down the wall in rivulets like the tears that suddenly sprang to my eyes.
Crazed with grief and frustration, I went to my bedroom and dumped my sack of books on the floor.
There has to be something in here to make me forget. A rune to detach my emotions.
The more I thought about it, the better the idea sounded. If I could just detach from everything, then I wouldn’t have to feel the deep-seated loneliness that was taking further root. It started with Holt’s murder and Sharol’s betrayal and was only compounded by the sadness of losing Ben and the sting of Rohak’s anger.
I plundered through my books, not finding anything of value, and I stood up in frustration. I intended to stomp back across the room and start chugging the bottle of wine, but my toe caught on a wayward book, and I yelped in pain.
“Stupid book!” I yelled and Cotton darted under my bed at my scream.
No, not stupid book. Stupid girl.
“What’s this?” I muttered to myself, still hopping on one foot while clutching the other. I stopped and stood on shaky feet as I saw the cause of my ire.
The Librarian’s book. Or one of them.
I fell in my haste to grab it and lay down on top of my spilled books as I wrenched open the decayed cover.
I was not surprised when I saw that the whole thing was written in runes—ancient runes. It was slow going, but I had enough understanding of runes to decipher the text, and I began to devour the information.
The more I read, the more I couldn’t pull my eyes away. I shifted to my knees and eventually sat on the floor, my back pressed against the footboard of the bed.
What I read simultaneously horrified and intrigued me.
This was . . . dangerous. Especially in the wrong hands.
The more I read, the sicker I became, my stomach dropping like a lead weight, until the urge to vomit was too overwhelming and I ran to the bathroom, book clutched in my hand, to empty the contents of my stomach.
Oh, fuck.
Chapter 71
Ellowyn
Days passed slowly and all at once.
I fluctuated between the nightmares that plagued my dreams to waking to live in one.
