Page 122 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

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Iwoke to silence.

And then, before I was fully conscious, before registering the sheets or the light or the ache in my palm—I remembered.

Not all at once, but in pieces.

The cold of the knife’s handle. Bone-smooth and ancient in my hand. The sharp sting of the cut I made. And then⁠—

A feeling no single word could adequately describe. Like a door sealed shut had blown wide open inside my chest. Like every candle in a dark house lighting at once.

I lay still, afraid to move. Afraid that if I breathed wrong it would all disappear.

But it didn’t.

All my life my magic was fleeting. Like something I held cupped in my hands, watching it seep out between my fingers no matter how tightly I pressed them together. I’d grown so used to the loss that I’d forgotten the joy of it—tarnished by the constant grief of something being taken.

And now? It had returned to me.

My eyes fluttered open.

I found myself in Axel’s bedroom. Light filtered in the windows. The smell of his sheets—of him—wrapped me in comfort.

I pressed my bandaged hand flat against my sternum and just breathed, feeling the hum of my power—deep and warm and bottomless in a way it had never been. Not since I was a child, before I understood what was happening to me. Before the first time I’d used magic and felt that tearing sensation and looked at my mother’s face and understood from her expression that something had just been lost forever.

It wasn’t lost anymore.

I sat up slowly, and the world didn’t spin. I felt—impossibly, after everything—like myself. Or rather, like the version of myself I’d been trying to get back to for as long as I could remember.

None of this felt real. For so long, I had hoped this day would come. Now that it was here, I didn’t know what to do with it.

My eyes snagged on my backpack sitting innocently on the dresser. I’d been wearing it when I went into The Roost. Which was how Ambrose found my GPS device.

Ambrose.

I remembered the sound of his anguished scream as the knife’s magic rebounded, taking his magic in exchange for mine. It made sense. His blood was responsible for the curse on mine, after all.

I shivered and pushed free of the blankets, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed. The oversized t-shirt I wore slipped off one shoulder. One of Axel’s, and not what I’d been wearing last night.

I frowned. Had he dressed me? Put me to bed?

Heat crept up my throat at the thought.

I glanced at the window again. It looked like mid-morning. I must have slept through the entire night.

Was it any surprise? I’d been drugged and then bombarded with a lifetime of magic that had been stolen from me. Magic that now hummed beneath my skin. Nervous, I tentatively reached for it. Just a thread.

It answered immediately. Eager. Ready.

A smile tugged at my lips. I glanced around Axel’s room. It was so sparse and functional—just like the man himself. The bed frame he’d built with his own hands. The simple dresser. The window with its plain, dark green curtains.

Before I could second-guess myself, I used my will and desire to shape what I wanted. The curtains shimmered, fabric rippling like water. The green melted away, replaced by a crisp, cream that caught the light and made the whole room glow, instantly brightening the space.

I waited for the telltale familiar sensation of ripping part of myself away. But it didn’t come. My elation grew.

I searched for other things, imagining the changes I would make if this were my room—our room. My smile blossomed as I created several wooden frames, empty—for now—on the wall. Then I added a set of wooden shelves. Finally, I put an additional rug beneath the small chaise in the corner, along with a couple of throw pillows.

I was panting by the end, a light sheen of perspiration coating my skin. Light witches didn’t have an endless supply of magic. We had to take it from our bodies in the form of energy. Which meant I was already ready for a nap. Like any muscle, this one needed exercise if I was to strengthen it. But the important thing was, I could. And I would. In time.