Page 85 of The Sorrow of Shadows

They had always done their best to make me feel the same, but in so many ways I just never quite fit. My Gifts had developed early and quickly. There were so few instances of my Hemonia Gift that I had no one to help me learn to control it. My ability to read intention and sense lies was slightly more common, so my parents were able to find a tutor for me to hone that ability. It was lonely being the only one like me.

Breyla is a perfect balance of both her parents. While physically she resembles her father more—except for her complexion—her personality was equal parts her father and mother. Her quick wit and sharp tongue came from her mother, but her fierce devotion, loyalty, and interest in all things dangerous came from her father.

I can remember no less than a dozen times I thought I might die from stunts or adventures I was dragged on by Raynor. He passed on his desire for adventure and experiences to his daughter.

“So, what game are we playing?” Breyla asks, shaking me out of my mental assessment of her.

“Remis and Goblets,” I say, confident that she can’t cheat at this one.

“The drinking game?” Breyla asks.

“That’s the one.”

“I’ll grab the goblets and the ale!” My father dashes from the room, excited to play a game he can finally win.

“I don’t know what you expect to gain from this,” Breyla starts while picking at her nails as if unbothered by my challenge. “I excel at all drinking games.”

“Well, so do I. Game on, Princess.” I lean over the table and meet her eyes with a stare of my own.

Father returns with the goblets and pitchers of ale, pouring us each a hefty glass. I pull a Remi from my coin purse and bounce it toward the cup in the middle of the table. It lands directly in the middle, the coin ringing against the metal of the cup.

I smirk up at Breyla, her face less than impressed.

Father goes next, landing his coin directly on top of mine. An excited yelp escapes him as he demands, “Drink up, ladies!”

They both take a drink, then line up for their shots. Both land the Remis in the goblet, much to our dismay, and we drink.Shit, this might be harder than I thought.

The play goes back and forth, with each of us making the most of our shots and barely missing any. At the end, though, we come out victorious, and the girls have to finish the pitcher of ale.

My mother looks at the pitcher with disgust, clearly not wanting to take another drink.

“Don’t worry, Grandma. I’ll take this one,” Breyla offers and tips the half-full pitcher to her lips. She gulps it down, little drops escaping the sides of her mouth and running down her chin. I find myself wanting to clean them off her and find out what the ale tastes like on her skin.

“Thank you, my dear,” my mother hiccups. “I can’t hold my ale like I used to.”

Breyla finishes the drink in record time and sets the pitcher on the table with a triumphant grin.

“What’s next?” she challenges.

“Nothing for me, dear. I’m retiring for the evening,” my mother says between hiccups.

“I’ll join you, darling,” my father says, joining her as she exits the parlor.

“What do you say, Aurelius? Up for another game?” Her words are slightly slurred, and I can tell the alcohol she just chugged is starting to hit her.

“I say, it is also time for bed, my drunk little demon.”

“I’m not drunk, you’re drunk!” she exclaims, then giggles.

“We’ve hit the giggling stage; it is time for bed.” I laugh, pulling her behind me down the hallway toward my room.

We pass her room and she looks at me, confused. “That’s my room, where are you taking me?”

“Did you forget our bargain, Princess? You promised to stay with me tonight.”

“Oh!” she yells, just a bit too loud for my liking. If there were servants nearby, they definitely heard that.

“Shhh. You don’t want anybody to hear us, remember?”

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