The moon was full, swollen and heavy, its light spilling through Ivy’s window like a silver flood. She sat upright in her bed, too restless to lie down. The battle scars of the past days still marked her—scratches healing, bruises fading, but none of it compared to the war in her mind.
Selra stirred inside her, uneasy. The air is heavy tonight. He will come again. Be ready.
“I don’t want him in my head,” Ivy whispered, clutching the blanket like it could shield her.
Then fight harder. Remember, his power feeds on your fear. Don’t give it to him.
But fear was all she had. Fear of what she’d seen, what she’d felt. Fear that the bond would pull her toward Arthur until she lost herself completely.
Sleep crept over her like a thief, and despite Selra’s warnings, her body surrendered.
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