“Then he stared into the darkness just underneath the ceiling. It didn’t make a whole lot of difference. He might just as well have stared into the fire, at the sun or into the abyss. He thought hard. He thought so hard and so long that in spite of physical exhaustion he was unable to sleep. Something was wrong. The joy at being back again with Balyndis had not ebbed; in the same way, their mutual avowals of affection, and the tender gestures which they had exchanged for the first time in ages—i...t all felt genuine. But still, everything he did and said had a touch of emptiness. It was like spring with no blossom. Things were growing, but colors and fragrance were missing. And because he felt so absurdly discontented and unfulfilled, he hated himself. He was starting to destroy their newfound happiness—and totally without reason. In past cycles he had attributed this feeling to his guilt about the death of their son. But that wasn’t it. Carefully, so as not to risk waking the dwarf-woman by his side, he got up, put on his nightshirt and left the bedroom.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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