Edric
I knew I was drunk.
It wasn’t the kind where I became loose and couldn’t carry my limbs around by my own will. No. This was the light kind of drunk…the one where I couldn’t carry my thoughts.
The one where ideas became so enlightening, they couldn’t stay in just my head alone. They had to live with others.
The bottle was already half-empty, and I wasn’t sure if I hated the burn in my throat or craved it. I sat on the floor of the study, back against the cold stone wall, legs stretched out, staring at the amber liquid inside the bottle like it held some kind of divine answer.
It didn’t.
Nothing did, and that’s why I was drinking.
The door creaked behind me. Light footsteps.
Diana.
I didn’t turn. I didn’t have the strength to pretend, not tonight.
“You shouldn’t be drinking,”
