The suite in Castelvo smelled of burning sage and failure.
Emily sat on the edge of the four-poster bed, her hands gripping the silk sheets so tightly her knuckles were white. The headache was no longer a spike; it was a constant, throbbing pressure behind her eyes, like a second heartbeat that hated her.
Around her, three Ancient healers—women draped in grey wool—chanted softly. They waved bundles of smoldering herbs over her head. They pressed crystals to her temples. They muttered incantations that made the air vibrate.
"Stop," Emily whispered.
"We must cleanse the aura," the eldest healer insisted, not looking at her. "The rejection is deep. The spirit is fighting the flesh."
"I said STOP!" Emily screamed.
She swiped her arm out, knocking the tray of crystals to the floor. They s
