Breanna looked down at the page in his memoir, number twelve. Had they really only read twelve pages, when she had gained so much information? Looking back, it seemed like Donovan had not written in a comprehensive story format, but in a series of key points for him to remember, such as 'uneven, cold' and 'hair covered his eyelashes looking down'. It was mind-bending that his memory that had taken hours to recall was written on only a few uninspired pages of paper. And it was all sitting neatly in her head for her to review.
“Are you ready for the next one?” Donovan asked, reaching over her shoulder and checking that she had turned to the correct page. She shied to the left, unable to ...view middle of the document...
She sighed and a little of the irritation left her.
“Yes, alright. You can start whenever.”
“I would like to remind you that you are forbidden to share anything you are about to see with the Kingschild,” said Donovan stoutly, positioning himself so he could lean on the back of her chair with his hand propped up comfortably.
“I thought I didn't have a choice,” Breanna muttered, bracing herself so he couldn't make her jump this time.
“You don't. But it would be nice if you didn't try. It just makes both of you frustrated. Additionally, what you're experiencing tonight is a very... tender to me. The less you attempt letting it escape from your brain, the better.”
He coughed over his shoulder and then leaned in to read the first line. Breanna tensed, squeezing her eyes tighter shut and holding tightly to the edges of pages twelve and thirteen.
“The day was normal in the Capital. It was a little overcast, not dark.”
Thankfully she didn't jump as the magic left his hand and began finding it's regular places in her brain. However, it happened so quickly that as soon as...