Thalia Blackwood jolted awake, her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. The remnants of her nightmare clung to her like a second skin, vivid and terrifying. She could still feel the sharp, gray rocks beneath her feet, smell the damp earth after rain, and feel the cold sting of the frigid wind on her skin. The c***k of the whip echoed in her ears, phantom pain lancing across her back as if she were bleeding all over again.
The clanking of shackles seemed to follow her into wakefulness, the dirty rags of her dream still rough against her skin. A scream tore from her throat, raw and primal.
"Thalia! Thalia, wake up!"
Marcus's voice cut through the fog of her nightmare, calm and steady. Thalia's eyes snapped open, meeting his concerned gaze. She was in her room in the glass castle,
