Ariyon grabbed a thin paintbrush and dipped it in white paint. Walking over, he crossed out five tallies. “How many days or weeks I have eaten up with healing. It’s an estimate, of course. Curing the drunkenness was probably five days.” My face fell when I realized that he was counting his own life span. Pain clawed at my heart at the mere thought of what he’d given up for others. For my father. For me. “You shouldn’t…count them like this. Or look at them so…openly. It’s depressing.” I blinked and a single tear rolled down my cheek. “Why not? I’m not afraid of death. The moment my Maven
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