SELIN'S POV.
What is wrong with me?
"Pull yourself together, Selin," I whispered into the pillow. "Get a grip. A holy grip. A religious grip. Any grip—"
I froze, not that kind of grip. I groaned louder. This was hopeless, absolutely hopeless. I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling again, letting the crashing weight of reality settle. What if all this wasn't real? What if it wasn't liking him,
just reacting to him? To his intensity, his looks, his stupid warm hands. To the danger that made everything feel…sharper.
Maybe it was just physical, or I was losing my mind. Maybe castle air had poison in it. Or maybe…
Maybe I had actually started falling for him. I squeezed my eyes shut.
No. No. Don't even think that. I suddenly missed home so much the ache hit like a punch.
Uncle Halem's voice, the smell of his herbs. The way he used to grumble about the goats eating his vegetables. The old women who fought every morning over who got fresh river water first.
