Page 176 of The Sins of Silas

My lip trembled, and I opened my door. “I don’t want to. Please, go.”

The face he gave me shattered my heart, and then he just nodded. “Goodnight, Lena...”

Then he left. I collapsed on my bed, too wasted to even take my shoes off, and softly cried myself to sleep.

Chapter Forty-Seven

LENA

Iwoke to the most horrific migraine imaginable, not that that should be a shock. My mouth was as dry as a desert, and the need to vomit threatened me enough to have me sprinting to the bathroom.

After hurling my guts up, I brushed my teeth twice as if that would wash away the sins of the evening. I showered, scrubbing my body thoroughly and washing my hair with honey and oat soap before finally exiting the shower and chugging some water from the sink.

After dressing in fresh clothes—a white blouse and black trousers paired with my boots—I made my way to Elowen’s room, seeing Torrin already standing at the door, arms resting on the frame.

I walked over just as she handed him a vial, and he downed it instantly.

Her eyes trailed over me. “You too, Lena?” she asked, shaking her head and laughing. “You guys need to not drink so much.”

Torrin gave me a half-smile, eyes flitting down my frame, before he turned, exiting the area. I entered Elowen’s room, Edmund sharpening a blade in the corner.

“Mornin’ Lena,” he greeted warmly, his face falling. “Jeez! You look—”

Elowen shot him a death glare, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “L-like you’ve had a rough night.”

You have no idea.

“Yesterday was brutal, Edmund. It’s no wonder Lena looks drained.” She flitted her eyes to me. “I also whipped up some contraceptive elixirs. It’s about time for another.”

Elowen went to work at the kitchenette in their room. They were placed in the fancier room on purpose; El was our best healer, and people would need tonics today after the battle.

“How are you holding up?” I asked her gently, sitting on her bed.

She kept her eyes on the task at hand, pouring water into a pot and bringing it to a boil. “I…I don't want to talk about it.”

My eyes darted to Edmund, who gave me a sad smile. The strength it must’ve taken to provide Saoirse with a painless death…I couldn't imagine.

Elowen was a tiny thing, five feet tall, and the youngest one in our group. But inside her was so, so much resilience.

She'd had a whole childhood being hated by her brother. A whole childhood—and adulthood, it felt at times—blaming herself for what happened to Ayana Astair.

She'd helped me through my miscarriage when shewas only fourteen years old. She saw both of her parents die, then witnessed them as Undead.

She'd healed my broken frame after I'd been violated. And now, she'd slid a dagger across a helpless child's neck, providing her peace.

Her strength inspired me.

“Has Roland asked for one?”

Edmund snorted. “You already know Roland is probably still sleeping.”

I smiled at that. Yeah, he probably was.

“Can you make one for him, too?”

Elowen nodded, crushing herbs from our travels and submerging them into the rolling boil.

As I studied her, I felt something different. I wasn't sure what.

---