It’s the most hideous place I’ve ever seen.
“Where are we?” I jerk up, but my muscles won’t obey. Jestin catches me in time and helps me sit.
The covers peel back, and my nostrils flare.
Disgusting.
The mattress is soaked.
Piss? Wine?
I inhale again.
No. My sweat.
“We’re at the Peaked Mountains. Do you remember?” He asks, his gaze searching mine, fingers nervously tapping the bedspread.
Peaked Mountains. Yes. The Trials. We’re at the last stage before the coronation.
“You won the Sword Trial.”
“Of course I did,” I joke.
He doesn’t smile. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, struggling for the right words. “Do you remember anything else?”
I remember. The arena. The fury. The fire in my blood. How I acted.
I clap my hands over my head to block out the images from surfacing, but to no avail.
Guilt and shame burn a pit in my chest, and I pull back on the mattress, hitting the bedframe.
“Yes,” he says, offering me more water, but I refuse.
“I’m sorry,” my voice breaks, and the realisation hits. “You know about the balm.”
“I know,” he confirms. “But you’re back. That’s all that matters.”
Fuck, I’ve messed up.
The door creaks open and Baba Yaga steps in. Her stare cuts straight through me, appraising me inch by inch.
I raise a brow, but she only shakes her head.
“I deserve it,” I mutter.
“She’s awake,” she says, like it’s a bad thing. Jestin shifts uncomfortably on the bed while she lowers herself into one of the empty chairs.
“Have you told her?” She asks Jestin.
“I was getting there,” he mutters.
“Then hurry.”
I’m right here. Hello?
He sighs, then grabs my hand and squeezes it hard, like he’s holding for dear life. “You need to promise me… don’t blame yourself.”
My heart stutters. Where are Aidon and Riven?
