Maeve

I’m an idiot. I can’t even look at my reflection in the mirror without blushing so deeply I feel actual heat shimmering across my cheeks. I listen to Soren’s deep, monotone voice as he speaks to Helena, the old witch who owns this house, this clinic deep in the woods, in the other room while I dress. It’s nightfall, but the passage of time today has been nothing but hazy. A storm of epic proportions raged, flooding the forest, swelling every creek and washing out the narrow roadways that connect the smallest, most rural villages to the large towns and cities in the Roguelands.

Soren says that’s in our...