Eighteen
The guilt-beast circles my thoughts as I enter the mountain with Vi’s book tucked beneath my arm. Food is the furthest thing from my mind, but Gaius comes out of the living room and points toward the kitchen. “I kept some dinner for you,” he says with a smile. “You need to keep your strength up for tomorrow night.”
My strength. His words remind me of the weariness tugging at my body and the ache pounding my head. I don’t need food. I need some of that tonic sitting beside my bed. But Gaius is already taking my arm and leading me toward the kitchen, so I decide it’s easier not to fight. “You said you managed to get that pouch from your old mentor’s office?” he asks as I sit at the kitchen table.
“Hmm? Oh, yes.” I remove the pouch from my pocket and hand it to Gaius. After waving
