When we walk back into the dining room, it’s mayhem. Several trolls are puking in trash cans, random buckets, and bowls. A fae woman runs out the front door just in time to vomit in the bushes. She expels the contents of her stomach with so much force her wings bust out. I cover my mouth, because watching everyone else hurl isn’t doing great things for my queasiness. “I thought it was just me.” “Not just you, love.” Kirian’s arm tightens around my shoulders. Most of the room has cleared out, but there are a few fae lingering by the bar as they try to pay their tab. But by the time we make it
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I have slight emetophobia. This is, rough.
