The exact place my mother stood in my nightmare.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
My hands tremble wildly as I rise from the blood-strained arena floor.
I’ve never once sleepwalked in my whole damn life—yet here I stand wearing nothing but my nightclothes, the chill night air raising goosebumps all over my body.
My feet are bare and icy, covered in dirt. The whole front of my nightshirt is dusty with it, too. Heart pounding with anxiety and confusion, I try to wipe the bloody grit from my face, wondering how I must look.
I need to get back to my room without anyone seeing me.
As I turn toward the exit, Anassa’s awareness trickles through the bond. My instinct is to shut her out—I don’t want anyone to know about this—but I don’t. I can’t afford to piss her off again.
“Are you well?”she asks.
The genuine concern in her voice takes me by surprise.
“I’m fine,”I answer, hoping she can’t read the truth in my feelings.“I just had a nightmare.”
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. I can tell Anassa doesn’t totally buy it, but she doesn’t argue.
“Well, go back to sleep,”she says.“You’re keeping me up.”
So much for her concern.
I approach the arena exit and peer outside. The castle is dark. Thank the goddess. No one is around to witness my shame.
Mom had episodes just like this. She would wander at night, muttering about voices only she could hear. I’d find her outside sometimes, standing in the neighbor’s yard or crouching in a nearby alley. Once she climbed up on the roof.
That was the day I finally took her to the healer, and we started giving her sedatives.
I find myself fighting tears of panic as I slink back to my room. The walk seems endless and the shadows have that unnervingaliveness. Every little sound in the castle recalls the whispers, my mother’s eerie voice.
Her open mouth, pouring blood.
Fuck. I can’t pretend this isn’t happening forever. Eventually, someone is going to notice. The madness is going to interfere with my ability to fight. Anassa will reject me. Killian, too.
And Saela…
How the fuck can I save her if I can’t trust my own mind?
And how long do I have before I can’t function on my own anymore? Months? Years?
I don’t know, but the clock is ticking. I feel it in my bones.
My time is running out.
I’moff my game the next day, exhausted after barely sleeping. We have training with Egith and Stark as we work on our pack unity while practicing combat maneuvers.
My whole world is the rush of fur, the thud of paws, the flash of fangs. Snarls and chuffs fill the air alongside Stark’s precise instructions as his voice echoes over the training yard.He has us executing a complicated formation composed of three concentric circles, each ring of wolves moving in the opposite direction to the one before it, covering all sightlines.
According to Stark, this precise formation would be used in battlefield conditions, when we might need to coordinate smoothly while surrounded by chaos.
The tightly knit outer circle protects against exterior attacks, the frontline of our defense. The central circle, safer from danger, has more room to assess the battlefield at large and relay information to the second circle, who can be deployed at notice to reinforce the outer circle should they waver.
For now, though, we’re barely managing to move in tidy circles.
The balance is delicate. Every single one of us has to move at the same pace, aware of those in front of us, behind us, to either side. It’s difficult, even without a Siphon attack to worry about.
