I toss the piece of shredded meat, listen to itthwapagainst the dirt as I turn from the beast and scan the tree line.
Two ... four ...sevenhulking, snarling Vruks prowl free from the bush, heads low and talons out, pelts thick like the one I just slew. Their lips are peeled, ears flattened against their bulky heads, drool dripping from sharp, exposed fangs.
I sigh, slide my foot back, and draw a steady breath.
All at once, they charge.
Iwake before the sun has hatched, the sky still a velvet blanket freckled with stars, though it’s hard to appreciate when phantom nails are being hammered into my skull.
Glued to the bed by the weight of my body, I smack my tongue against the roof of my mouth, feeling like all the moisture has been leached out of me ...
If I ingest another drop of caspun, I might never wake. And if I stay in bed, staring at the roof, I’ll just tie myself in knots over the fact that The Safe is housing my crystal goblet, filled to the brim with Rhordyn’s nightcap,all because I couldn’t let go.
I justcouldn’t.
Because even though he’s not here to accept my offering, I still did it—like leaving food out for a stray that never came.
Best I just roll out of bed, run laps around my balcony once the exo kicks in, then paint some rocks until the sun rises.
Groaning, I hang my arm off the side and thud to the floor in a heap of listless, jutting limbs. I peel the rug back, lift the stone, and reach into the hole, slapping around the edges of the smooth,emptybase ...
“No. No, no, no.” My heart lurches into my throat as I dig a second arm in and scour the barren fucking tomb.
Gone.
The realization trips a memory surge, and I roll, face crumbling. I sling a belt of vile words at the roof, massaging my temples and hating Rhordyn just a little bit more.
Hatingmyselfjust as much.
For one nonsensical second, I consider searching the entire castle by candlelight for my three-year supply, coming to the conclusion they’re likely destroyed or hidden in his den. Probably the former.
I curl into myself, shaking ...
What a waste.
If Rhordyn were here, I’d march to his den, pound my fist against his door and give him the sharpest, most poisonous piece of my mind.
Letting my head tip to the side, I stare out the window through slitted eyes, trying to find some sense of calm in the winking stars and crescent moon. But they’re too close—the ground too far away.
I need my feet dug into fleshy soil; need to pull some peace from the earth and pretend I’m not fraying at the seams.
I justneed.
Pushing onto all fours, I crawl to my refreshment table, toss back two glasses of water, then clamber up and shuffle toward the wooden bench littered with jars. I plunder one brimming with dehydrated ginger and peppermint, stuffing my mouth half full in hopes of taking the edge off the pain in my temples.
At this stage, I need all the help I can get.
Trying not to gag from the sharp explosion of taste, I pull on some pants, then shrug on a coat to ward off the chill frosting me from the inside. I shoulder my bag, open The Safe, and grip the glass by its long, fragile neck, then tip the flushed contents all over the floor with a sneer.
Shame to waste such a pretty shade of pink.
The steps of Stony Stem are unkind to a caspun hangover, and I flinch with each featherlight footfall that feels the exact opposite. The passageways are endless, The Tangle relentless, but after cursing Rhordyn and Baze every step of the way, I finally pop out on the eastern side of the castle, drawing a lungful of crisp, morning air as I plant my feet on the grass and bore my toes into damp soil.
The relief is instant.
I release a sigh, shoulders loosening, head tipping back to stare at the dazzling sprinkle of stars. Closing my eyes, I bask in the stretch of peace only fractured by the odd chirping cricket.
The pull of the earth eases my pain, shoveling substance into the hollow space within me. It’s a relaxation method I relied on before discovering the recipe for Exothryl, but that feels like a lifetime ago.
