The next morning…
The sun poked through the burlap curtains with the aggressive enthusiasm of a debt collector. I woke up feeling like my brain had been through a centrifuge filled with jagged rocks and cheap fermented grapes.
"Seraphine... the light is too loud," Milabuella's voice whimpered in the back of my skull. For once, we were in total agreement.
I dragged my "frail" princess-corpse down to the inn's shared kitchen. The air was thick with the scent of a heavy beef stew, the kind of breakfast designed to soak up the poor decisions of the night before.
It was a scene of absolute devastation.
Sir Jin was slumped over the wooden table, clutching a cold compress to his forehead. "I think the mermaid in my song was actually a sea monster," he croaked. "And it's currently eating my frontal lobe."
Sir Alex was sitting upright, because of course he was, but he was yawning with the force of a tectonic shift, his eyes bloodshot.
