The shattered remnants of the porcelain cup were gone by midnight, swept away by a silent, terrifyingly obedient servant, but the metallic stink of crushed almonds and nightshade seemed to have leaked directly into the floorboards.
I lay rigid beneath the heavy fur blankets of the massive mahogany bed, my eyes wide, staring at the dark canopy above. My skin was humming with that same restless, hot current. Every time I closed my eyes, the silence of the Western Wing became a canvas for things I didn't want to see. The palace was suffocating me. Seraphina wanted me dead. Arlo wanted me broken. And Elian… Elian’s wild, obsessive face on the floor tonight had chilled me deeper than any threat from the guards.
When my exhaustion finally dragged me under, it wasn't sleep that found me. It was
