ROWAN
I sneezed once more for what felt like the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. My head jerked forward, and I sniffed before I straightened in my seat.
My father turned to look at me from the head of the long table. “Are you listening?” he asked.
I ignored his question and continued rubbing my still-itchy nose. Was someone talking about me? This was what they said in superstitions, right?
The elders droned on, their voices like background noise until Elder Harren slammed his palm on the table. “This is getting out of hand,” he declared. “Even the Praetor’s wife has been attacked in our land. That is embarrassing.”
I nearly snorted. Embarrassing?
Embarrassing was them sitting here for hours, talking, wringing their hands, and doing absolutely nothing. Embarrassing was think
