I could hear it when Ginger’s heart thumped unevenly.
“She’s dying!” I growled. “Do something!”
“What did you give her?” the angel asked, her voice gentle but wavering slightly.
“Nothing! As I said! I would die before I brought harm to Ginger. But she got into these mushrooms?—”
She interrupted me. “Mushrooms? What did they look like?”
“Red. Shiny. Spots,” I said, struggling to remember the details that were overshadowed by my sheer panic. “Looked like a widowmaker.”
She tossed a dagger of a glare in my direction, and then tensed. “Red? Are you sure? Those aren’t native to the area.”
“Red,” I insisted. “I know what I saw.”
“I have to ask you to leave so I can work in peace,” she said tightly.
‘I’m not leaving! I?—”
She whirled and looked at me. Her hands were stained with my wife’s blood.
Death burned in her gaze. “I. Said. Leave.”
Her ferocity stopped me short. “You’ll just let her die if I stay?”
She said nothing in response, but a quiet rage lurked in her eyes.
I couldn’t risk it. I held my hands up. “Fine. I’m going.” I backed toward the front door, keeping my eyes on Ginger the entire way.
And then the door slammed shut behind me, and there was a barrier between my precious wife and me.
I crumbled into a pile on the cobblestones, my back sliding against the door.
I dropped my head into my hands.
The angel would save her. They were friends—the healer would surely save her friend.
She wasn’t going to die. She wasn’t going to die.
She wasn’tallowedto die.
Surely, the fates wouldn’t be so cruel.
Though the fateswerecruel to me…
As I wallowed in misery, another memory swallowed me whole.
Darkness surrounded me. Unfamiliar darkness—a lack of energy, of life, ofanything.
I trembled in my cell.
My shackled feet were bare, chained to the stone floor.
Insects didn’t even dwell in this place. It was worse than death. Far, far worse.
I didn’t know what time it was. What day it was.
What year it was.
