The next morning was a slow affair. Duke Wallen had left in his carriage at the end of the night, but the house still did not feel right. I went downstairs and found Zed sprawled across the rug in front of the fire, his skin an ashen gray. When I went to rouse him, he turned away, muttering darkly, and then did not stir. I had never seen anyone hungover before, and so I assumed he must be dying. After all, he had used a great deal of magic the previous night. Even with my lack of schooling I knew that overuse of their skill was deadly to mages.
I felt tears prickling in my eyes at the thought. I did not particularly like Zed, as I mentioned, but he was familiar, and the idea of life in Lyekeep without him was unthinkable. I sat beside him, by the hearth, until my father came downstairs.
