Olivia Martins

I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. Everything hurt. My head, my body, and even my bones felt sore. The room smelled like Caspian—that mix of his cologne and something that I couldn't name. I was in his bed, the same one where he'd lain sick just hours ago.

A cool hand pressed against my forehead, and I forced my eyes open to find the witch leaning over me, her face creased in concentration. Instinctively, I recoiled, my body tensing despite its exhaustion. I ...