Isla's POV
The shaking wouldn't stop.
Isla sat on the balcony of Shadowveil's highest tower, wrapped in her own arms, trying to breathe through another wave of tremors. Two days. Two days since they'd returned from Silvercrest. Two days of not sleeping. Not really sleeping. Just lying in bed with her eyes open, feeling her baby kick so hard it hurt, feeling her magic pulse underneath her skin like something alive and angry.
She couldn't turn off her mind.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Marcus's twisted form. Heard the coven's voices speaking in unison. Felt the weight of her father's expectations pressing down on her.
The baby kicked again, harder this time. A protest. A demand for calm that Isla couldn't provide.
She pressed her hand to her belly, trying to soothe the child growing inside her. Trying to promise safety she didn't know how to deliver.
