After the Candlelit Revel, I did the responsible thing and went straight to bed.
For about eleven minutes.
I lay there under enough fur to smother a moose, staring at the carved ceiling and listening to the quiet crackle of the fire. My body was tired. My feet were writing their last will and testament. But my brain?
Party. Full volume.
The candle ritual. The way everyone’s hopes had glowed in their hands. The Hollow pressing at the walls. The map in the wardroom. Evren’s face when he talked about his people. Evren’s hand on my waist. Evren’s expression when I smiled for real and he damn near tripped over his own boots.
Yeah, sleep was not happening.
I threw the covers back with a sigh. “Fine,” I muttered. “We’re doing the manic grieving woman library montage. Let’s go.”
I grabbed a
