In that minute, Solomon's eyes slid shut again and he came perilously close to losing himself in the foggy warmth of drugged sleep all over again. The creak of the armchair and Skulduggery's voice twigged at his consciousness, but it took a few moments for the words to filter through.

"It was always going to happen."

"Always hated it," Solomon mumbled without opening his eyes. Without his quite being aware, however, his head had tilted in Skulduggery's direction. "Always--why? You hated it. All've it. The Temple, the magic, the faith ..."

He didn't understand. Maybe couldn't understand, with his brain so fogged with drugs and pain. "I don't understand. Why ...?"