His hand, still stained with the soldier’s sweat, began to tremble. First a shiver, then a full shake that rattled through his frame. His breath rasped. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, dripping into his beard.
A low sound broke from his throat—half growl, half laugh.
He staggered toward the table where a crystal vial gleamed faintly gold in the firelight. His eyes locked onto it, wild, desperate. His lips twisted back, and the laugh rose higher, cracking into giggles.
“Mine… mine, mine, mine…” he whispered, clutching at the edge of the table. His shoulders jerked as though some invisible hand toyed with his body. “She cannot hide… not from me. Not forever.”
The giggles slipped into full laughter, shaking and hollow. He pressed a hand to his chest, as if to still the riot insid
