In the Wake of the Wicked (Veridian Empire #1)

39. Rose

39

Rose

I woke up screaming and drenched in sweat. My head spun as I bolted upright, blinking away the visions of massacre and fire and smoke staining the backs of my eyelids.

I was…I was in my bed. In the palace. Still in the leggings and oversized tunic I had gone to sleep in after the dinner—no dagger or charms in sight.

Had it truly not been real? Had it all been a—a dream ?

Scrambling out of bed, I barely made it to the bathing chamber before I emptied the contents of my stomach into the wash basin, the cool porcelain a welcome reprieve against my hot cheeks.

Morgana and Ragnar had been—I couldn’t even think the words, couldn’t stop picturing blood spurting from Ragnar’s neck. Images of dead bodies in the infirmary swirled around me. The cloying scent of death and decay suffocated me as I retched again.

After a few minutes had passed and my stomach seemed to settle, I rinsed out my mouth and washed my face. I tried not to stare at the yellow pallor of my skin and the way my hair hung limp down my chest. Throwing my boots on, I grabbed my charms and dagger then barged out the door, stumbling my way down the hall.

I forced breath through my mouth and into my lungs, fighting against a flurry of panic. What if the second trial wasn’t over? What if I still hadn’t passed?

I couldn’t trust anything. Not even what was right in front of me. Not even my own mind.

“Rose, you’re awake! Where are you going?”

I twisted at the sound of Horace’s voice, holding my blade in front of me. I didn’t know what to believe. If this wasn’t real, if he was part of the trial…

He held his hands in the air. “C’mon, girl, I’m supposed to get you to Lark?—”

“Stay away from me!” I snarled, backing up to the nearest stairwell. A sudden shout came from down the hall and I flinched, picturing enemy soldiers barreling through the narrow path—but it was simply laughter from passing guests. When Horace saw my fear, he turned around to search for a potential threat.

I took my chance. Bounding down the stairs, I ignored Horace’s shout and the bewildered looks of guests as I sprinted to the first floor. The corridor seemed to darken and lengthen, and I couldn’t tell if it was a figment of my imagination or some magic from the second trial. It felt like every shadow was stretching toward me, whispers and glares shooting at me like daggers from the Mysthelm army. My chest tightened; it was hard to draw breath, hard to see past the haze clouding my thoughts. I had to get to them, to my family…

Bursting through the infirmary door, I collided with a nurse, her tray of bandages and glass vials flying into the air.

She was alive, at least. That was a good sign.

I stammered an apology and kept moving past bedsides with warm, smiling faces—but then I blinked, and I saw slit throats and swaying limbs. Rubbing at my eyes, I felt something wet.

Blood or tears?

I didn’t know. It was all the same.

Ragnar, Morgana, Beau…Ragnar, Morgana, Beau…

I skidded to a stop. Familiar wide hips and dark tresses leaned over a bed, with a tall, skinny figure on the other side.

“Beau,” I whimpered, fumbling across the floor, almost falling when I saw Ragnar’s body beneath the sheets.

Whole and unharmed. Still motionless and under the grip of the curse, but no wound marred his flesh. No red stained the bed sheets or pillow. He was alive.

“Rose! You’re awake!” Morgana exclaimed, her features alight with relief. She rushed to me, clutching my shoulders tightly. “It’s been almost three days, sweetheart. We were so worried. They said you would be fine, but?—”

Three days?

I ripped myself from her grasp. “Are you alright, Rose? What’s wrong?” she asked, taking a cautious step toward me as if I was an animal that would spook at the slightest sound.

Now that I knew they were alright, it felt like the walls of this forsaken palace were closing in on me, claws readying to sink into me and shred me to pieces.

I needed to feel safe. I needed to get away .

“I can’t—I have to go,” I gasped. “I can’t be here.”

Tearing back in the direction I’d come from, my mind replayed the same motions from the dream, how I’d stepped over broken furniture and lifeless bodies, moans and screams echoing around me. I squeezed my eyes shut for a split second to try and banish the memory, but it wouldn’t leave.

I had to get out of here.