The night was warm and sticky. Even the flowers in the garden seemed to sigh under the crush of the heavy air. A motionless curtain of clouds blotted out the moon and stars, but the rain refused to come.
Rowan was unable to sleep despite his exhaustion. Nicasi's magic had begun to wear off, and his face throbbed. He hadn't absorbed any death, but his muscles ached from his unexpected battle with the poison that controlled Tamlyn.
He was beginning to wonder if feeling like he'd been flattened by a boulder was to be expected after using his magic from now on.
Though his body was beaten and confused, his heart refused to allow him the respite he desired. All night he moved from his bed to his patio and back, unable to sleep because of the oppressive layer of moisture that coated his skin and a vague sense of anxiety. Both things suffocated him.
