Kigal felt no better when she returned home empty-handed. Asag’s gripes over the loss of fresh blood and being summoned to the Land of Living did nothing to improve her mood, either. Sleep eluded her all that night, save in fitful bursts, and she was left with eyes both puffy and dark-ringed. Her hair was a tangle of waves from tossing and turning. Any other morning, she would have found it within herself to brush it out, but today she didn’t care. Despite their attempts to be quiet, Kigal saw the shadows of her friends pass under her door, heard the clank of the clay pot and tin cup as they set it outside her room then scurried away. Guilt panged in her chest. Though she hadn’t yet been able to stamp out her temper, she knew they meant well yesterday. Since when had such anger entered her
