“It was like stepping into hell,” he says. “Then you should’ve .” “But I wanted a .” He smiles. “For you.” I plant a on his icy, unshaven cheek, and cast a glow spell to warm us, which I regret instantly, because the effort makes my gums ache and the tips of my fingers go numb. Casting drains me more than it should these days–I even lost a after I glimmered those –but I keep it from Magvelyn. He’d just try to stop me doing his anti-aging spells if he knew. Before we leave the park, I hang the bone-white on a piece of brown leather, and tie it around my neck. I saw Magvelyn buying it from a bric-a-brac stall in the goblins’ market last month, and goblins are renowned for selling fake curios, but I don’t care about its authenticity. My need for cold, hard facts has faded with age, like my eyesight and the rich auburn in my hair. The mind creates a colorful enough reality, I’ve found, and love always forges a much sweeter version of the truth.

 

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