Being back in his room felt nice. Being so close yet so far away from her was bittersweet. He loved the fact he could cross that hall and be there if she needed him. But he hated that he had to cross the hall.
He laid down in his bed and closed his eyes, knowing sleep often eluded him, but he had a ritual. If only he could use the spells Callum taught him on himself. Things would be so much easier. His mind drifted to her, as it always did.
This girl was going to be the end of him. She brought him peace. He didn't deserve to be at peace. But he was.
He didn't register when he had fallen asleep, but he knew he was as soon as he saw him.
His father looked just like he had when he died, just with fewer white hairs.
"Harlan."
They were at the old house in his study. He was kneeling in front of him. He demanded others kneel in his presence like he was some sort of crooked king.
"Did you do what I asked?"
He looked down at his blood-stained hands.
