I could feel the floor humming beneath me like a warning pulse, but the council chamber was meant to be still, solemn. The torches flickered as we cast our long distorted shadows on the marble floor —my shadow broke apart in an odd way, as if it could separate itself from me and run away.
The air was thick and charged, smelling as if the room had been filled with smoke, though only I could taste it in my lungs. I realized it wasn’t real, at least not in the normal sense. It was the kind of trick Arabella loved — the kind that makes you question yourself even before the first blade flies.
Wren’s shoulder bumped into mine, solid and steadying. “It’s beginning,” he breathed.
Starting? My heartbeat skipped. Isn’t it already? Isn’t this everlasting fight between me and Arabella already consu
