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Dash was the youngest, a boy of eleven whoto me mutter to myself, it seemed I hadn’t realized he’d overheard me

“I’, but I’ht not get ball-chillingly cold here, but it’s cold enough to stunt plant growth I just need a little sun I keep asking the goddess, but she clearly does not give a crap about us Divine, o back to the old ways of our ancestors They worshipped a bunch of gods sitting on a mountain or whatever Maybe one of them would listen”

“You read too much”

“Is there such a thing?”

“You daydream too much, then”

I shrugged “That is probably true”

My medicinal station waited in the corner, herbs and a mortar and pestle set on a wooden tray The two measly leaves in the ceraht of the evening sun

Very poetic, this particular healing recipe Bone-chillingly poetic It had taken a lot of reading and trial and error to figure out orked best, and I wasn’t finished I was sure the de at me so’s gold and worked up the bullshit curse that currently plagued our land, after all His le Too bad they weren’t rotting beneath the ground with the late king They deserved to be, dickfaced rat fuckers

“What was that?” Hannon asked, his teh that wasn’t much of an accomplishment I’d set the bar pretty low

“Nothing,” I murmured It wasn’t ladylike to swear, or so the people of our antiquated village always reminded me It was equally unladylike to flip thee, and without two coppers to rub together, the lot of us

My father convulsed, spash

Hands shaking, fighting to reent aroarlic, blasted ht be sic

My father lunged toward the side of the bed