Book 19: The Festival

Oakley

I need to see a healer, I think. 

A priestess actually. Yeah, that would be more helpful in my situation. I’m either cursed or losing my mind, along with chunks of memory, because I do not remember hurting myself last night. 

I meet my bloodshot reflection in the mirror in the bathroom while rubbing my swollen wrist with a potent healing salve I pilfered from my Aunt Shuna. It’s from Teshka, of course, like she is. It feels gritty on my skin, like the rough sand beaches in that territory, but it does quell the incessant tingling. 

A sharp knock on the door tears my attention from my reflection. My mom’s voice rings out, “They’re here! Prince Ian is downstairs waiting for you.”

“I’m coming,” I murmur, shaking my head several times like I can somehow knock loose t