POV: Grace
“This place reeks of disgusting rogues.” Raksha’s voice echoes in my head, grumpy from having been put to sleep by the poison, but growing increasingly more annoyed with each word.
“You’re late,” I tell Raksha using our shared conscience.
I feel my strength returning to me, flowing through my blood and into my muscles. I cease scratching at Lyra’s leg and instead grab it. Her frozen, sunken in expression tells me that she can tell the tables have turned.
With a swift motion, I effortlessly hurl her aside, much like one would toss a blanket sideways. A yelp escapes her lips. However, I maintain a firm grip on her ankle as I rise to my feet, casting a towering presence over her prone body. “Not so talkative anymore, are we?”
Her eyes shimmer with a mixture of feelings, and
