I returned my attention to Max. He was just lying there on a couch, his eyes still open, a shadow still passing across his irises. A sense of true dread welled in my gut. It felt as if I’d just swallowed a stone and the damn thing was trying to drag me through the center of the earth.
My grip slackened around the healing stone, and it dropped to my lap. As soon as I stopped methodically rubbing it, a wave of nausea and tiredness took me. I rocked back on the couch, almost falling unconscious. But I used my last scrap of reason to grab the stone back up. I held it as tightly as I could. Bloodied, stiff fingers wrapping so hard around the carved rock, it would have taken a crowbar to pry it back. And a magical crowbar, at that.
A frown pressed across my lips as I finally wrenched my attention off Max and concentrated instead on what the hell was happening.
It had to be him. Didn’t it? Goddammit, it had to be Max’s shadow – McCain. It couldn’t be a coincidence that some kind of embodied darkness was flickering through Max’s gaze. It had to be him.
My hand clenched so tightly around the stone, I could have shattered it and fractured my fingers. I kept ticking my gaze toward Bridgette, Sarah, and the other witches. Though my gaze was kind of bleary considering the amount of damage I’d put my body through, I could still make out how seriously concerned everybody looked. And that just made me feel all the sicker. A nervous, tense energy welled in my body, and I longed to jump up and do something about it. But what the hell could I do? Fake fortunes and well-placed lies weren’t going to save Max. I was totally and utterly out of my depth.
Or was I? A sudden, uncomfortable thought flickered in my mind. It was like a flame on the darkest night.
There was a way. There was always a way to solve my problems. There was the future, to be exact.
I shoved my hand so hard against my face, I could have pushed my eyes through the back of my skull.
I could use it – the power. Try to find some way to save Max. Maybe it was the only way to save him….
I heard soft footsteps, and I yanked my hand from my face to see Bridgette staring down at me with a crumpled, compassionate expression. “It’s okay. It isn’t as bad as it seems. You did the right thing bringing him here. We have the best medical witches in the country. We’ll find a way to save him. You just sit there, keep rubbing that stone, and hold onto your hope, kid.”
I didn’t answer, just stared at her. Maybe there was something about my exact gaze, because Bridgette frowned. “How did you manage to get away from the Lonely King, anyway? And did you finally find out what it costs?”
“What?”
“During your fight with the Lonely King – however the heck you defeated him – did you figure out what your magic costs you?”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. I stared at her in slack-jawed horror.
Maybe Bridgette was a mind reader, because her cheeks slackened. “You did, didn’t you?” she replied, voice careful.
I pressed my lips together and lodged my tongue against them. I couldn’t answer.
She kept staring down at me. “What does it cost you?” she asked after a lengthy pause as she obviously assessed my expression.
“I don’t know,” I lied.
She looked at me, and it was damn clear she didn’t believe what I was saying. “You do know. Now what does it cost?” she demanded once more.
I jerked my gaze off her and settled it back on Max pointedly. “I don’t have time for this,” I said weakly.
Bridgette pulled up a chair and sat beside me. “What does it cost you?” She brought up a hand and settled it on her stomach. “Nothing comes for free. I know that. I’ve been practicing magic my whole life. Everyone here knows that. We also know that the more powerful magic is, the more it costs you. Your abilities are amazing – you can see into the future, change the present. So what does it cost you?”
I didn’t answer. God, I just wanted to ignore her and sit on this seat in total silence until Max finally woke up. But I couldn’t, could I? And though it was the last thing I wanted, I found my lips slowly parting open. “It costs me my future,” I said with a distracted, detached voice as if I were talking about nothing more offensive than the weather.
She didn’t ask me to clarify. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her cheeks pale.
“Every time I see the future,” I said, rapidly losing the detached edge as my voice became weak and muffled, “I lose the ability to decide anything. What I see, I do. And the more I use my powers,” my voice well and truly broke now, “the harder it is to get away from them. I barely escaped the last time I tried.” I dropped the healing stone and didn’t care as a wave of pain powered through me, slamming into me with all the force of a tidal wave.
Bridgette sat there in total silence and stared at me.
“But it doesn’t matter,” I interjected, still leaving the stone on my lap despite the fact the pain was getting worse and worse, “I have to use my powers again. It’s the
