Chapter Twenty-SevenI wake up with a scream on my lips.
Opening my eyes, I’m relieved to find myself in my cozy bed, with no sacrificial slab in sight.
According to my nightstand clock, it’s 9:37 a.m. The shades have kept the room dark enough to let me sleep well past sunrise.
I throw off the blanket. Someone dressed me in my favorite poker-themed PJs. I lift the pajama top and examine my stomach. There’s no hideous burn where the brand touched me, which makes sense since I’ve never seen one on Ariel’s flesh, and she must’ve lived through the same horrific Rite.
The door opens.
“Speak of the devil,” I say, surprised my voice isn’t hoarse from all the screaming and vomiting during the Rite.
“How are you feeling?” Ariel approaches and sits carefully on the edge of my bed.
“Surprisingl
