Matilda's pov

The area was illuminated by a full, maize-colored moon, with gentle light streaming through the trees like liquid silver. The rogues had all gathered and were encircling the ceremonial fire in a circle. Whether I liked it or not, their whispers turned into a single, low moan that felt like a wave snatching me and pulling me along.

As soon as I entered the circle, my chest tightened. My heart hurt more than my ribs, which were sore from exercise. I had been asked—no, ...