Chapter 8 · The Heir in the Sickbed

The beasts were still kneeling outside the window when I stumbled into Finn's room.

My brother's eyes were open. Not half-lidded, not flickering—open. Clear. He was looking right at them, at the creatures made of smoke and claws, and he was smiling like he'd just seen an old friend.

I couldn't breathe.

"Finn?" My voice cracked. I grabbed the edge of his bed, my legs shaking so hard I thought I'd collapse. "Finn, can you hear me?"

His gaze slid toward me, slow, like he was underwater. The smile didn't fade. It wasn't the goofy grin I remembered from before the curse ate into him. It was something else. Something that made my stomach twist.

"Evie," he whispered.

I almost sobbed. Four months. Four months of silence, of machines breathing for him, of watching his body waste away while I bled myself dry trying to keep him alive. And now he said my name.

"I'm here." I reached for his hand, but he pulled it back, fingers curling into the blanket. His eyes flicked past me, toward the doorway.

Kane stood there, one hand braced against the frame like he needed it to stay upright.