Fire Chronicles
Forget home and think of my kingdom as her home.
I turned to the next blank page and sketched Acasia as she looked while sleeping. I never went back to the previous pictures of past claiming brides. The pain was too great. I'd filled almost the entire book with drawings of the women I'd claimed. Their faces as they aged, so beautiful, but each passing year, the lines took them closer to death. I hated this book, but wanted the images for some reason. Seventy-eight women, seventy-eight-hundred years, seventy-eight heartbreaks, and Acasia was the seventy-ninth. The centuries in front of me stretched endlessly.
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