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“It is already beginning.”
“No!” A frenzy clung to my chest, sharp and deep. Whatever was happening, if it put Saga nearer to Davorin, I’d cut out my own damn heart to stop it. “Where is she, you bastard?”
I shoved against Wraith’s chest.
“A king will rise to his heart’s cries.” Wraith’s eyes flashed in a frenzied gleam. “Take what you’ve seen and find the power stronger than this sleep to pull you back.”
The room tilted. I stumbled into a wall.
I needed to find my wife. I’d break through every bleeding wall, burn the whole of this illusion to the ground with me inside it if it kept her free. Light spilled underneath a door near the back of the room.
Dust and flecks of stone struck my face, but I took long strides for the door. I tried the latch. The door was locked.
“Wake up, Ari!” Wraith shouted again, glaring at me. “Bleeding hells, wake up.”
The ground shuddered violently. Wraith didn’t flinch, he hardly moved as he shouted. “Open your eyes! She’s tossing you back. Wake up, Ari.”
His voice was different. Not deep, but desperate. It was feminine and afraid.
“Wake up!”
I used my shoulder against the door. Over and over, I slammed my body against the wood until the hinges rattled. A crack sounded in the room. The door groaned on its hinges and swung open enough to slip through.
The walls dripped into new gray river stones with wood panels. I wanted to shout for him not to abandon me again, but my eyes fluttered closed as the room with Saga’s misery grew dark and cold.
“Wake up, Ari,” Wraith kept shouting at me, but he sounded like . . . “Wake the hells up!”
Calista?
I jolted when a sting burned over the side of my cheek.
Come back to me, Ari. Gods, come back.
My heart cinched. That was Saga. The woman held my damn heart, and her tears, her cry, broke me to my soul. Heavy and sticky, I fought against my lids to part my eyes. Another strike to the face and my eyes opened.
A blurry image of wild, golden braids filled my vision.
Calista arched over me and shook my shoulders. Familiar in more than one way, though I could not place how I, all at once, felt closer to the storyteller.
She let out a soft gasp, eyes wide, when she held my stare. “Stop her.”
I tilted my head to the side and thought I might snap a rib the way my heart raced.
Saga was on the ground, fighting with . . . Sofia.
The huldra held a piece of parchment dangerously near a burgundy candle with a burning wick. Heady fear lived in Calista’s eyes. Whatever was on that parchment, the storyteller did not want it to burn.
Throat dry, I winced and slid from the bed, my body sore from disuse, and went to my wife.
Chapter29
The Raven Queen
Long fingers curledaround the parchment in Sofia’s hand and yanked it away.
My heart stopped.
Sofia screamed her protests, but slumped from exhaustion, or maybe it was the cruel despair when the last ember of hope died. Head down, the huldra rose to her hands and knees, and crawled toward the corner. Her sobs faded in my ears when two strong legs stepped in front of me.
