Warlocks make crazy mistresses
The Quiet One.
A month ago...
Cynrick strolls through my doors, his massive frame filling my gaze in familiar shadow. I peer at him searchingly. “Cynrick?” He drops a book down at my desk. It is some dusty tome that natters on about Trollish crap that has absolutely nothing to do with me. I reach across to flip it open indulgently. It is completely in trollish.
“Did you want me to read you a bedtime story, Cynrick?” I cannot help but smile at his annoyed expression.
“This is what she was reading in the library,” he mumbles around the perpetual cigarette that dangles from his mouth. I can feel my brow arching in response to the statement. I peer at the title, it is a jumbled language that is clearly not known to me.
“Who, Gabby?” I can feel my eyes bulge slightly, concern and humor mixing at the contents of the book.
