One kahlua, two vodka, three ice cubes in a whiskey glass. Again.
This was my second glass, and the fog was starting to fall on my mind. Anything to put some distance between me and the harsh reality I lived in.
Spending so much time with the homeless people of the city after years of dealing with nobles and princes was like a slap to the face. How could such different realities coexist? And how the fuck could I help?
I knew inviting them to the engagement ceremony was the right choice. It showed we saw them. We knew they were there, citizens of the kingdom. People. People who deserved to be acknowledged and helped out. People with surprising dignity and self awareness. People from all kinds of backgrounds. People who got unlucky, just like we all could, and who didn't give up on life or hope.
Gianni had agreed to set up a tent city in the gardens of the palace. It was to be temporary of course, just for the ceremony, but it was a start. At least there would be food and hot showers for all of them.
I hoped we could tackle this issue again and find a way to help all these people. What was the point of magic otherwise?
Shit, drinking myself stupid wasn't going to help anyone. I needed to find solutions. I needed my head on straight. I needed a hot shower myself and some coffee. You can't help anyone from inside a glass of Black Russian.
Night had fallen when I got myself out of the joint. It had been a three drinks night after all. The wind slapped my face, but it wasn't cold. Warmer days were coming. They'd bring laughter and mini skirts, ice creams and movie nights. For me, they'd bring melancholy. And the royal wedding.
But for now, I was walking alone at night, coming home to a warm bed and a night's sleep. Morning would bring other concerns but they didn't yet matter. I was drunk, I was cold, and I was happy.