And for the long hour afterward, my focus half remained on the High Lord whose hands and mouth and body had suddenly made me feel awake—burning. It didn’t make me forget, didn’t make me obliterate hurts or grievances, it just made me … alive. Made me feel as if I’d been asleep for a year, slumbering inside a glass coffin, and he had just shattered through it and shaken me to consciousness. The High Lord whose power had not scared me. Whose wrath did not wreck me. And now—now I didn’t know where that put me. Knee-deep in trouble seemed like a good place to start.
