A sob escaped my throat. “Grandmother.” I knelt at her side. From the way her cough rattled, I knew she wasn’t long for this world. Taking her hand, I choked out, “I’m here, grandmother.”
Her eyes, momentarily lucid, darted to my face and narrowed. “Everyone is dead because of you,” she wheezed.
I blinked through the sting in my eyes. “Wh-what?”
“Your friends are dead because of you. Your mother is dead because of you.”
Shaking, I tried to withdraw my hand from hers, but she tightened her grip, pulling me closer.
“If it weren’t for you, she’d still be here,” she hissed into my ear. “I wish you had never been born. You’re a mistake. Worthless. Unlovable.”
My breath snatched away. “You can’t mean these things.”
“I do. You are my greatest disappointment.”
My chest tightened. I’d always suspected my grandmother felt thisway, but to have my fears so callously confirmed? Unbearable.
“You think you’ll return to Vantillios a hero? That you’ve proven yourself worthy to be queen?” She gave a throaty laugh. “They all see you, and they despise you. Defective. Insignificant. Do your kingdom a kindness and go with the Crow.”
Her words were as sharp and venomous as a sea urchin’s spine. Just as painful. Fresh tears escaped my eyes and rushed down my face.
She was right. I should go with the Crow.
No.
From the furthest reaches of my mind came an unfamiliar voice.
She’s wrong. You’re wrong about yourself. You are not broken. You are not to blame for your mother’s death. And you don’t have to prove yourself to be deserving of love. You are extraordinary.
Could I believe the voice?
I forced myself to meet her eyes. All I saw was hatred. Hatred and disgust.
None of this is real. You need to wake up and run—she’s coming for you.
Recollection pawed at my mind. I tried and failed to grasp the whisper of a memory.
The Crow—she’s coming. You need to wake up, now.
My grandmother’s nostrils flared. “You are weak. You ruin everything. Just look at the mess you’re making,” she snarled.
Eyes still blurry with tears, I looked down. The wound on my chest splintered and seeped. Wincing, I clutched it, feeling the oozing fluid slip through my fingers like wine through a leaky barrel.
Something was wrong. How was I still bleeding? I thought it had healed itself.
The door to my mind flew open with a crash. Realization stepped inside. “This isn’t real.” I wrenched my hand out of her iron grip.
Her beautiful face contorted. “Worthless,” she seethed.
Wake up!
The blackness and stillness dissolved and were replaced by the sounds of crashes and bangs and shouts from the surrounding skirmish. Gasping, I pressed against my wound—still healed. I propped myself up on my elbows. Wet leaves and muck clung to my hair and clothes. Pelting rain blurred my vision as I scanned the scene.
My heart staggered. Everyone was still alive and fighting, but half a dozen more witches seemed to have appeared while I was… dreaming? Hallucinating? Whatever it had been, it left me sweating and shaking uncontrollably. I was a wreck, but I needed to find the dagger, pick myself off the ground, and run. Now.
Just as I was about to do exactly that, the Crow appeared in front of me, wings arched. “You can end all this if you’ll only come with me.”
“Tempting, but I’m going to have to decline,” I said, scrambling backwards and feeling around for the discarded dagger. I was admittedly still rattled by my nightmare, but I sure as Vell wouldn’t be going anywhere without a fight.
