Page 166 of Whispers of Wisteria

Her weird fear of Damen held nothing to this.

The second lock was released.

My knees buckled and I fell, my teeth chattering and ears popping with a burst.

“Bianca!” Gloria knelt in front of me, and her fingers dug into my shoulders as she eased me onto my back.

At least, I think that’s what happened. There was no way to tell which way was up and which was down. But I wasn’t breathing in dirt, so that was a big giveaway.

“Bianca, can you get up?” Her voice prodded at me, desperate yet firm.

But then she answered her question.

“No,” she said. Her fingers lightly traced over my cheek. “She’s already past her limits. We need a necromancer.”

Why would we need a necromancer?

I couldn’t remember why that’d be important. But that did remind me of my necromancer. Julian’s gentle, blue eyes flashed against my closed eyelids.

Guilt twisted at me, and my stomach churned painfully. Why did it feel like there was still something missing between us?

We should spend more time together once Titus and I made it back home.

But first, a nap.

My hair pressed against my cheek, and another stone dug into my shoulder. Why would I sleep here? This wasn’t comfortable at all.

A voice whispered in the back of my head again. I couldn’t go to sleep now.

I needed a necromancer.

“Gloria,” Maria was saying, “we’re going with my plan. They’ll probably be back soon. You should wait—”

“We can’t do that.” Gloria’s refusal rang with desperation.

I looked at her.

Her pale wrists were coated with blood, an injury from her imprisonment, and her golden eyes flashed with barely restrained panic.

Her focus remained on Maria and Ada. “Please don’t ask,” she said.

My head still spun. It was taking me too long to recover.

I couldn’tbe the one to help us. I couldn’t run away. Instead, I was going to have to trust a wolf.

I didn’t have the best history with wolves, although Matheus hadn’t murdered me. So there was that.

Gloria’s clenched fists were pressed into the ground by my side, and her tension mounted. It was slow, but I was finally able to brush my fingers across her hand.

The older woman looked at me so quickly that her hair fanned around her. “Bianca?”

Please shift.

I dropped my hand back to the floor.

“You’re okay!” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

Well, ‘okay’ was debatable.