Book 18: Title

Fallon

There’s little to report about my wedding night. I didn’t dance until the wee hours of the morning. I didn’t arrive at a romantically decorated room where a bottle of sparkling wine and chocolate-covered strawberries were waiting for me and my dear, sweet husband. I didn’t fall into silk sheets with the love of my life.

In fact, the man in question simply shoved me into a room at an inn after a two-hour long car ride–color me shocked that there are cars in KiloKilo. I’ve always considered this place to be rudimentary, but alas, I am again proved wrong–and then he left.

Where is Zayn, one might ask? Hell if I know! It’s now 6:00 in the morning, and I haven’t seen him since last night, when he left me here in a room. At least it’s leagues better than the stuffy, poorly tended manor in Meccana… or whatever the hell that terrible city is calle