[ELARA]
“Come on, Elara,” Magnus urges, his voice barely containing his fury as his hand comes to rest on my arm.
I flinch at the contact, burnt by his touch. When I see my arm, the skin there has turned a shade of pink. This is Morgana’s work. I know it.
“There’s a council meeting now, Prince,” an old, toothless man tells Magnus but he dismisses him with a wave of his hand.
“Later, Lord Jaromir,” he mutters.
Ruelle calls out my name from a distance. Reflexively turning, I notice her rushing towards me through the departing crowd of courtiers, her face red with worry. I know she wants to warn me, but it’s too late now.
Magnus notices that my legs have turned to stone, and yanks at my arm. His grip is too tight, the pain searing through my flesh. ‘It’s more than just a physi
