Chapter 36
After the door shut and the clop-clop of the horses’ hooves had faded into the distance, Jocelyn stood watching the door. Its outline wobbled and melted into a white mass of nothingness.
It was his child. She carried his child.
There was the tiniest bubbling spring of joy somewhere in the deepest regions of his heart.
His child. His son.
Jocelyn reached a finger into his collar. He was suddenly rather warm. He reached awkwardly behind him with one hand, felt around for a chair, and sat. While the room was now sitting straight in his mind, its corners still wobbled and danced with alarming facility.
He closed his eyes. He could feel the press of a crowd on him, howling for blood. His youthful dreams had been haunted by the idea that he had been able to smell, actually smell
