A stabbing pain ripped down my spine. My back arched as a cry left my lips.
Next to the bed, a glass vial shattered.
Leo immediately released me. Chest heaving, he scrambled off the bed, searching for some sign of injury.
“I think it—it’s the magic,” I said, gritting my teeth. “It’s trying to get out.”
The flash of pain subsided, replaced with the same soreness I’d felt when I woke up. I could still sense the power worming inside of me, though. Urging me.
I flung my legs off the side of the bed and stumbled to my feet.
“Rose, what—” Leo hastily put an arm beneath my shoulder as I almost fell, my legs shaky from disuse. Staggering forward, the magic practically begged me to keep going, to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
The sensation heightened. I ripped aside the curtain hanging near my bed.
Ragnar’s still form rested on white sheets, his features frozen in the curse.
Impossible thoughts raced through my mind, twisting with this incessant nagging that pushed and pulled on every inch of my body.
I shoved away from Leo and approached my uncle’s bed. My pulse bashed in my neck, my ears, my chest, reaching a crescendo as I stretched out a hand.
My palm touched his cheek.
I felt it instantly. A tiny seed of power flickered, so small compared to the waves embedded within me. Silver light sunk into his skin.
I wasn’t sure I was breathing. Eyes wide, I retracted my hand, my gaze never leaving his face.
The air was silent, save for the sounds of Leo’s breaths behind me and my own heartbeats.
And then my uncle’s eyes flew open.
80
Rose
Knees buckling, I fell to the floor, my lips parting on an exhale. Familiar eyes locked onto mine—bright gray instead of red shone back at me. Ragnar’s face slowly filled with color as he blinked and swallowed.
“Rose?” he said, his voice a scratchy whisper. “Where are we?”
Something heavy hit the floor behind me. “By the Fates.”
Twisting my head, I saw Morgana and Beau. Morgana’s hands flew to her mouth, a book strewn at her feet where she dropped it. Blood drained from her face as tears filled her eyes. She swayed unsteadily on her feet, and Beau gripped her elbow.
“Is this—is this real?” she asked, reaching out a hand to the bed and teetering forward as if in a trance.
Ragnar tried to straighten, but his arms shook as he lifted himself. “Ana, what’s going on?”
At the sound of his voice, a sob ripped through my aunt’s throat. Rushing to the other side of the bed, she threw herself at him, tears tracking down her cheeks. I watched with burning eyes as she held him.He was awake. My chest felt like it was going to burst. He was as good as dead; we thought we’d never hear his voice, never trulyseehim again.
Beau came up to my side and got to his knees, flinging a ganglyarm over my shoulder and gripping Ragnar’s free hand with the other. “You were cursed, Pa,” my cousin said, his gray eyes glistening. “We thought you were gone.”
Ragnar’s eyes widened as Morgana backed away to pull a chair up closer to his side. “The Somnivae curse?” he asked. “Wh—how did this happen? How am I awake?”
Leo appeared next to me with a glass of water for my uncle. “It was Rose,” he said. His eyes pierced through me, full of wonder. “I saw it. She woke you.”
Morgana’s gaze slid to mine, as if just now seeing anything beyond her husband. Fresh cries wracked through her. She leaned across the bed to pull me up, trapping me in a fierce embrace over Ragnar’s body.
“Rosie, dear girl, you’re awake! You’re alright!” Wetness coated my shoulder where her tears fell, and my own threatened to rise. “What is he talking about?” she asked, breaking away and wiping her face. “What does he mean, you woke Ragnar?”
