Of Love and Loss (The Heart of Quinaria Book 2) by B. S. H. Garcia

Of Love and Loss (The Heart of Quinaria Book 2) by B. S. H. Garcia

Author:B. S. H. Garcia [Garcia, B. S. H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lost Relic Publishing
Published: 2024-09-28T00:00:00+00:00


KONAR

T’Vak proved to be every bit as mind-numbing as Konar remembered. It had scarcely been more than a fortnight, and already he’d considered shoving the backhander off one of the living tree platforms himself and framing the whole thing as an accident. He probably could’ve gotten away with it, but then he would’ve severed their last thread to Zavik, a sacrifice he was unwilling to make.

Yet.

If T’Vak wasn’t telling stories, he was drinking. If he wasn’t drinking, he was readying another batch of painfully elaborate stories regarding drinking—or worse, his various cot companions, of which Konar had lost count.

“Not picky at all in that regard,” the backhander often slurred. “Living and breathing, not too old or too young, and that’s my target fu—”

At which point Konar would quickly interject with an urgent request, even though the tasks he assigned were rarely urgent. T’Vak was most useful for procuring food and supplies, or occasionally sitting in on a war council gathering in Konar’s stead. He’d yet to attend one himself, despite receiving multiple invitations from the high chieftain. She meant well, but his presence would only tarnish hers.

T’Vak had just returned from one such endeavor. He’d also helped himself to a drink on the way back, according to the stain on his lips. The Orillon man was undeniably a dependent consumer of the poison, but Konar could’ve sworn his consumption had increased since returning without Zavik.

And that guilt, unfortunately, was something Konar knew all too well.

“What did you learn?” he asked, closing one of his journals. He’d gotten much closer to unlocking the Prophet’s code, but despite incorporating notes from the two scrolls in his possession, something remained amiss.

T’Vak leaned across the table covering the library’s trapdoor—it wasn’t one of the secrets Konar had allowed him the privilege of—his filthy hands resting dangerously close to a full inkwell. “Same shit they’re always going on about.”

When it became clear he wasn’t going to offer further explanation, Konar retrieved a bottle of Beridian Moonlight from his secret stash behind one of the shelves. He’d kept it there for years, waiting for a conversation that required a little more manipulation than usual.

He found himself in one of those times.

T’Vak’s eyes widened as Konar set the bottle on the table, alongside a dusty but ornately carved chalice. He scratched at the stubble adorning his cheeks and cleft chin. “What’s the occasion?”

“Death,” Konar said mildly, as he poured the thick liquid into the cup. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of alcohol and shoved it toward T’Vak. “For she comes for us all, sooner than we’d like.”

“Not you, though, eh?” The backhander studied Konar’s empty hand. “The beridian stuff not good enough for you?”

“Oh, I hear it’s the best in Quinaria.” Konar returned to his seat, positioned with a clear view of the library door. The backhander hadn’t bothered to bar it, and the vulnerability he felt in the room since Rajar’s occupation had never fully gone away. “But drinking and I are old enemies.”

“Rowdy



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