EMBER’S POV
I wake to shrieking.
It takes my brain a moment to process the sound, to drag itself from the warm depths of dreamless sleep and identify what’s happening.
Then Rayana’s voice cuts through the fog like a serrated knife.
“These pillows are absolutely unacceptable! They’re flat! Flat pillows, Knox! What kind of establishment provides flat pillows to a dying woman?”
I groan and bury my face in the pillow that is apparently not fluffy enough for our royal houseguest. The clock on the nightstand reads 7:14 AM. It feels like I closed my eyes approximately thirty seconds ago.
Knox is already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, and I can hear him counting to ten under his breath.
“I heard that,” I mumble into the pillow.
“Good. I want witnesses whe
