Page 35 of Ash and Roses

“There is something else we could do.”

My eyes snap up to Tess and my hands form fists around handfuls of blanket. “We’re not doing that.”

“The scratch could kill her. This could be the only way to ensure her survival.”

“I won’t damn her the way I damned all of you.”

Abby squirms a moment before sinking deeper into her pillow. I can’t stop my hand from taking hers, and it feels so thin and frail. I knew that the people of Lunae were suffering. It’s plain to see on her face, but feeling the bones only just beneath her skin has my own burning with fury. Not at their turmoil, because that’s not my problem. No, this rage is for myself. If I send her back to that, will I be sentencing her to a slow but certain death?

My neck arches suddenly, and I suck in a sharp breath. The jolts shouldn’t come this frequently, but I also shouldn’t be in this form. It’s only fair that the monster would tug at its chains and resent its early imprisonment.

“Quinn.” Tess’ face is stern. “Get some fresh air.”

“I’m fine.” I’m not fine.

She places a hand gingerly atop mine. “Do you want to risk it?”

With a sigh that comes out more like a roar, I stand from the chair and dart out of the room. I should be in there with the girl, not fleeing like a coward. Still, Tess is right. I know all too well what happens when I ignore the monster, and since I keep claiming to be concerned for Abby’s safety, then I need to leave her—for now.

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

ABBY

An endless barrage of nightmares plague me, broken only by brief moments of pain. Each time I wake, my head feels as if it will split in two. Part of me hopes it will because there must be some relief that comes from that. When I’m awake, I cannot move. There’s no telling how long I’ve been in this bed coated in a thick layer of sweat, but I can almost be certain that it was Quinn who brought me here. If I wasn’t feeling so horrible, I might be enraged at the possibility of him carrying me.

There are voices too. Ghostly and distant, yet the blurred figures that move around me are close enough to touch. Or they would be, if I had the strength to lift an arm and reach for them. I can’t understand their words over the ringing of my ears, but every so often I catch a fleeting word. ‘Fever.’ ‘Change.’ ‘Die.’

Am I dying? Or is this death? Immense pain and visions of the worst moments of my existence? It’s said that each and every star is a soul that’s passed on. But where does Lunalissa send those who forsake her? Her wolf should have killed me. This is my punishment.

* * *

When my eyes open again, the blur in them is all but gone. As is the headache, though the light streaming in through my window stings my eyes. It’s a welcome relief compared to agony’s relentless grip.

Quinn is in the chair beside me, eyes closed and arms folded across his chest. It makes perfect sense that his would be the first face I see. I groan, not caring if it wakes him.

His eyes fly open at the sound, and he leans forward in his chair. “It’s about time,” he grumbles.

“Now you’re cross with me over a fever?” I’m taken aback by how hoarse my voice sounds. I cough to clear it, though the action does little.

His jaw tightens. “I told you I don’t want to return you dead.” Before I can respond, he reaches for a glass of water and tilts it to my lips. I want to refuse it just to spite him, but the coolness of it soothes the dry rawness of my throat and coats my lips in welcome moisture.

“Why are you here?” I ask, waving the cup away, surprised that I have the energy to do so.

“You’re my guest. It’s my duty to stay with you.”

I laugh, but it doesn’t sound right. “Your guest? And since when do you uphold your royal duties?” I’ve woken in a foul mood, and his presence here is far from helping.

“I’m in support of this one.” He leans back casually in his chair, and for the briefest of moments, I wonder how long he’s been there. The stiff wood and minimal cushioning can’t have been comfortable. But then I remember that I don’t care. It was his choice to stay, so if his back hurts then it’s his own damn fault.

“Well, you can go. We both know you don’t want to be here. I’m fine, so consider your obligations met,Your Highness.”

He’s quiet a moment, and I think he might actually leave until he opens his mouth to speak. “My mother died of a fever.”

That stops me. “I thought it was the monster.”

He gazes towards the window, as if staring worlds away as his throat works. There’s a pain there he doesn’t want me to see. “Not her, no. I was nine. It was my first time witnessing death.”

“Were you with her?”

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