Chapter Thirty-Seven
I do not know how long I spent lost in my grief. With no windows, the shadows inside my cell grew no longer. But I could see that the candle I had lit beside the bed before I had started reading was considerably shorter. Pools of undyed beeswax crowded around the candle’s base with a dull sheen, filling the air with its scent as the shadows cast by its flame danced against the wall.
Someone had knocked on the door at some point while I had been reading. I had ignored them. Even if it was only one of the priests bringing another meal, I had no appetite. My stomach was a solid lump and my throat was raw. I felt completely wrung out and hollow.
Still, I rubbed my swollen eyes and forced myself to keep reading. Admon had left me these journals for a reason. Yes, he had
