EMBER’S POV

I wake to shrieking.

It takes my brain a moment to process the sound, to drag itself from the warm depths of dreamless sleep and identify what’s happening.

Then Rayana’s voice cuts through the fog like a serrated knife.

“These pillows are absolutely unacceptable! They’re flat! Flat pillows, Knox! What kind of establishment provides flat pillows to a dying woman?”

I groan and bury my face in the pillow that is apparently not fluffy enough for our royal houseguest. The clock on the nightstand reads 7:14 AM. It feels like I closed my eyes approximately thirty seconds ago.

Knox is already awake, sitting on the edge of the...