Theronil stared at the blank paper in front of him. What was he supposed to write? She had left him. He moaned and leaned forward to cradle his head in his hands as the throbbing pain in his head started up again. She had left him, and he had too much to drink.
He had waited at first. She didn’t return from her lessons at the usual time. Waiting turned into worry, until hours later when he went to feed the cat. Smoke would usually come running to her bowls at feeding time, but this time, the little cat was nowhere to be found.
She had left him, and she had taken the cat.
He spent the rest of the evening making sure he remembered as little as possible by drinking as much as he could.
She had left him. He remembered that much the next morning. He stayed inside all day and had more to drink. It wasn’t until this morning that he checked the mail, and then he was so sick, he couldn’t read the letter until after he slept again. Now it was only the pounding headache keeping him from responding.
Was Teniron right? Was marriage something that doomed him to be miserable? Teniron’s had been arranged. Maralle had almost always been difficult. Theronil hadn’t thought Isandri was anything like her. It wasn’t arranged. She wanted to, didn’t she? He wanted to, but it was her who had left him. Maybe she didn’t love him after all.
After minutes passed and only her name was written, he decided the best way was to keep it simple. He picked up the pen and wrote.
My Dearest Isandri,
I love you. Please come home. I need you here.
He folded it and put the address on it. Tranquillien. Why would she stay there? He frowned and hoped she would get the letter soon.