Secrets in the Snow

Chapter 7

"Get up you bumbling oaf. We're gonna be the last ones out of here."

Shaemus groaned in agony as the voice of his friend clawed its way down his eardrums. His stomach felt queasy and his head was throbbing at a terribly indecent rate. The rays of light that faded in were like swords of fire sent to gouge his eyes out. Shaemus scowled at the heinous noise and light as he pulled the covers up over his head. He had stumbled home from the party at some unholy hour in the morning. It was a true miracle nobody heard him come in. A measly hour of sleep was all the rest he had managed to get before being forced awake by his delightful comrade.

"Screw off, Gryffell," Shaemus moaned as he tried to block out any outside sensory force that would try to penetrate its way into his head.

Gryffell let out a light chuckle as he stared down in a confused amusement, "What? I can't hear you. You're gonna have to pull those sheets off of your head."

Shaemus snorted and popped his head out of the covers, only to be blinded by the light, "I feel like there's a nail being drilled into my head. Please just go on without me."

"You sick or something?" asked Gryffell with a tilt of his head.

"I don't know just shut up, please," Shaemus snapped as he rubbed his temples.

Gryffell studied his friend intently, giving Shaemus a questioning look, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you have the classic signs of a hangover. You sure you didn't go out last night?"

Shaemus could have vomited at the very thought of what he did last night. The dancing, the liquor, the kiss...all lead to him feeling like literal Hell this morning. If he'd known that what was in those bottles was so strong, he would have held himself back. Of course, he didn't know and now he was hungover in the worst of ways. That kiss also remained a memory in his mind despite the poison he had consumed. He had enjoyed that kiss much more than he'd ever anticipated. The passion was lacking, but the spark was through the roof. Winnie had single-handedly, in a moment of spontaneous drunkenness, managed to leave the all mighty Shaemus Snow both speechless and wanting more. He had kissed plenty of girls before, but the way his heart practically lunged from his chest was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He wanted to blame the feeling on the brandy, but not even he was a big enough fool to believe that.

He did, however, blame the alcohol for his willingness to help with Winnie and Stephis's maddening plan to break into the castle. That little siren kissed him then just happened to casually ask him if he would help get their wings back. Coincidence? He thought not. Although, she was just as wasted as he was, maybe even more. He couldn't be sure of anything anymore. Perhaps he had a longing death wish buried deep within himself that could only be brought out by a couple of bottles of the strongest whiskey. Or maybe he was just that drunk. Either way, stealing from the royal castle would be a suicide mission if a single fault occurred. If they were going to do this, they had to do it right.    

"I'm sure I didn't go out last night," Shaemus said with a cough, "It must be this weather. Could you grab me a glass of water? Sore throat, you know."

Gryffell raised an eyebrow as he gave an overdramatic bow, "As you wish, your majesty. I'm always ready to bend over backward for you."

Shaemus glared at Gryffell as he mockingly made his way down the ladder. Once his friend was out of sight, Shaemus sat up and held his head between his knees. Forget the waterboarding torture, if a guard dressed in a tacky embellished jacket wanted to get some poor bastard to talk, they should just force ten bottles of whatever the Hell Shaemus had drunk down their throat. Their head would be swimming plenty. Despite his body's screaming complaints, Shaemus knew he had to get up and go to work. Thieves never got a day off. With a wobbly start, the blonde boy rose to his feet and staggered around to the chest on the front side of his bed. Inside it were his clothes, more balled up than folded. He pulled out a maroon long-sleeved shirt and black pants, dressing quickly before Gryffell could barge in with his water.