ALARIC
I do not understand what is going on.
I have never been more confused than I am now, standing here watching my dear friend empty the contents of his stomach across the floor.
I have known Revandrel Cel’theren for centuries. He was a steel-boned male, ruthless in business, brutal in battle, emotionally vacant in everything else.
What he has never been is reactive. Or worse, overreactive.
In fact, I had begun to worry that he no longer felt anything at all. His heart too frozen, his soul too empty.
But in the span of a few hours, I had seen more emotional volatility from him than I had in decades. Centuries, even.
He never spoke of his stepsister. I knew a bit, picked up over the centuries that she and her family had wounded him and his mother deeply.
He holds a vicious gr
