Sleep and I were not on speaking terms.
Every time I closed my eyes, the shrine flickered behind my lids.
The rogue’s laugh.
The flash of Victor’s cuff in the trees.
Lucian’s eyes turn black around the edges, the curse crawling up his throat like shadowy veins.
My own hands glowed faintly as I grabbed his face and dragged him back from wherever the witch was trying to pull him.
*You don’t want to hurt me. Not this time.*
The words haunted me as much as the images did.
I lay in the dark of my room, staring at the faint shape of the ceiling crack, listening to the quiet hiss and thump of the manor at night—the soft scurry of mice in the walls, a distant door closing, the low murmur of a guard changing post outside the main hall.
I thought of Victor, pacing in whatever room they’d
