The first time Selene felt it, she thought it was only in her head.

A tug.

Soft at first, almost like the brush of a hand against her skin. She jolted awake in the middle of the night, chest heaving, her palms slick with sweat. The chamber was dark, save for the faint light of the moon spilling through the narrow window. The fortress was silent, the heavy kind of silence that came after funerals, after battle, after grief had settled into everyone’s bones.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. The ...