Three
“Has your Griffin Ability appeared again?” Aurora asks that evening as we retire to the couches in her private sitting room. It’s late, dinner is over, and Roarke still isn’t back. Asking when he’ll return is useless, so I’ve given up, but I still find myself burning with frustration every time I picture Mom permanently asleep. My hands want to curl into fists whenever I think of all the minutes, hours, and days passing by.
“I felt it in my sleep last night,” I tell her, removing a cushion from behind my back and hugging it to my chest. Better to squeeze the cushion than to continuously dig my nails into my palms. “It woke me up. By the time I figured out what was happening, the moment had passed. I didn’t manage to get a single word out before the magic was gone.”
“What would you
