I woke up the next morning, convinced that death would be a kindness. My head felt like someone had taken a hammer to the inside of my skull and then decided to keep practicing. Every pulse of blood behind my eyes sent another wave of pain through my temples.
I groaned and buried my face into the pillow.
The room spun anyway.
Wonderful.
For a few blissful seconds, I considered several possible solutions to my current suffering.
Jumping out of the window.
Running away to live at the borders again.
Faking my own death.
All seemed reasonable.
And then… The memories came back.
The bar. The drinks. Fannar.
My eyes snapped open.
“Oh gods,” I whispered into the pillow.
I had flirted with him.
Not just flirted. I had leaned in.
Like an i***t!
Like a drunk i***t!
I gro
