Lucian pov...
The pain was gone. I felt too free.
"Lucian."
I turned.
My mother stood behind me—healthy, whole, glowing. Her cheeks were full, her eyes bright. She looked the way she did before the sickness took her.
But she was dead. I watched her die. I held her hand as she slipped away.
"I have been pleading for you for days," she said. "Soon, you will come back home."
"This is my room. This is my home."
"I mean home." She drifted away, her white gown trailing like smoke. "Soon. Soon."
"Mother!"
I chased her. The halls stretched on—empty, endless. No guards, no maids, no one.
"Mother, wait!"
She was gone. I was alone.
"Lucian, wake up."
---
I opened my eyes.
Camilla sat on the edge of the bed, her hand on my chest. Her eyes were red, her cheeks wet, dark circles beneath them.
She has been crying.
"Camilla."
"You were dreaming," she said, her voice hoarse. "Your chest—why is it beating so fast?"
I tried to sit up. My chest screamed. I fell back.
