Chapter

Fifty Three

Asher

“Hell’s bells, Asher, you need to get in bed. You’re sick. You need rest,” Maeve snapped as she came back into our room, arms filled with supplies for what I was sure would be more tea for me. She’d practically been pouring her witchy brews down my throat, and with every swallow, I grew fuzzy-headed and sleepy, my dreams more disturbing each time I closed my eyes.

“Maeve, it’s been three days,” I whined. “I don’t want to sleep anymore. If I don’t get some fresh air soon, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You think you’re going to lose your mind? Cian has been checking...