Mitchell POV
"Get up, Prince Mitchell, before I dump a bucket of well water over your royal head."
Novalee’s voice rasps right above me.
I blink hard. My vision blurs, then snaps into focus. The stone floor beneath my cheek is freezing. My head throbs with a heavy, rhythmic pulse that makes my teeth ache. I was knocked out cold. Five minutes? An hour?
I push myself up on one elbow. Novalee, Audrey’s aunt - the woman the poor girl still thinks is just her stepmother because I swore a blood oath to keep my mouth shut - is already turning away from me. She crouches low beside Nina’s limp form on the blood-stained floor.
Novalee extends her thin hands over Nina, her palms glowing with a faint, restless light. Then she lets out a sharp, piercing shriek.
The air splits.
Luka moves so fast
