I knew it was a dream, but it was a damn good one.

Drake slipped into bed with me, and staring with dark, hungry eyes, he ripped my nightgown to pieces, revealing my naked body underneath. Then, he lowered himself over me, pressing his hard body on mine, and his delicious mouth against mine.

I half-sighed and half-moaned as—

A scream filled the night, and I jerked up, awake and alert.

That hadn’t come from my dream, I was sure.

Holding my breath, I waited.

The scream echoed through my bedroom again.

I darted off the bed, grabbed a thin robe, and tied it over myself while I ran into the corridor. I bumped into Thomas.

“Was that you?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“No,” I said, my heart racing.

If it wasn’t him, or me, then …

The scream came again, more guttural and low this time.

My heart sank. “Drake.”

Thomas and I ran to the prince’s suite at the end of the hallway.

Thomas pushed the door open, and we both skidded to a stop at the sight inside. Like that night in the ballroom, Drake was pinned to the wall by two long swords protruding through his shoulders, and a thick wooden stake in his chest.

My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh my …”

Drake growled, a scream lost in his throat.

Thomas and I rushed to him, and with some effort, we pulled the swords out. Drake slumped to the floor, his fall cushioned by my weak hold on his heavy body. With effort, we laid him down, his head on my legs.

“Is he …?” Thomas asked, his huge eyes darting from the stake in Drake’s chest to my face.

My hand hovered over the stake as I examined it. “I don’t think so. I think … I think the stake missed his heart.”

As if to confirm he wasn’t dead, Drake’s eyes fluttered open and his unfocused gaze met mine. “Thea,” he whispered, his voice weak.

“Shh,” I whispered back as tears clouded my vision. I had just admitted to myself how much I liked him, how much I was willing to see where this was going. He couldn’t die now. I pulled the top comforter from the bed and pressed a corner of it around the stake, trying to stop the bleeding. “Save your strength.”

Kneeling beside us, Thomas fidgeted, his body rocking front and back, as if he needed the motion to control himself. “What do we do? What do we do?”

I racked my brain. “We shouldn’t take the stake out, not yet. It might do more harm than good. We also shouldn’t move him, in case the stake moves with him and reaches his heart.” I traced my fingertips over Drake’s sweaty and feverish face. “We need a healer. Go fetch a healer from the infirmary.”

Thomas shook his head. “No, that’s dangerous. Most men there love Prince Alex. They might betray us.”

“Then who? Who can we trust? Who can heal him?”

“Sarki,” Thomas said. “She always favored Prince Drake and she’s half witch. She might be able to heal him.”

“Then go!” I hissed. “Bring her here. Fast.”

Thomas skidded off the bedroom, his footfalls dull on the cold floor.

I ran my hand over Drake’s face once more, pushing his hair away from his forehead.

“Thea,” he whispered. He blinked, trying to look at me.

“Be quiet, Drake,” I told him, my voice gentle. “You need to conserve your strength.”

A half smile appeared over his pale lips. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m afraid I’m too far gone.”

I shook my head hard. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. Fight, Drake. Please, I beg you, fight.”

His eyes fluttered open and he stared at me. “I had so much to tell you.”

Tears burned behind my eyes. “You will tell me all of it. Because I need you to.” I took his hand in mine and brought it to my face. “Please, for me, fight.”

A snarl rumbled his chest as if pain ricocheted through his body.

For a few long minutes, Drake seemed to shift in and out of consciousness, his fever increasing and his body trembling in shock. Praying to all the gods and goddesses out there, I sang a lullaby my mother used to sing to me when I had a nightmare or was too sick and couldn’t sleep.

Finally, Thomas and Sarki joined me in Drake’s bedroom.

Sarki’s dark complexion gained a pale tint as she stared at Drake’s wounds. “What the …?”

“Sarki, please, use your magic and heal him,” I asked, a pleading tone to my voice.

She padded toward us, visibly shocked. “I-I can’t.” She knelt beside me, her wide gaze on Drake. “I’m only half-witch. My magic is weak. I can’t perform healing spells.”

My heart sank along with any hope.

Unless …

My secret be damned. If I could heal Drake and they found out about it, so be it. I wasn’t going to let Drake die.

“Can you make potions?”

She stared at me. “W-what?”

“Can you use your magic to make potions?” I asked again.

“Yes, but the only healing potions I know are salves, which only help with superficial cuts and diminish pain. I don’t know any potion for a wound of this magnitude.”

“I do,” I said, aware of Sarki’s and Thomas’s curious gazes. “We’ll need valerian, white sage, woad, multein, and witch’s bark, a mortar and pestle, and a spoon or glass. Can you find those for me?”

“I know there are mortar and pestles in the kitchen,” Thomas said. “I can get one.”

“And there should be all those herbs in the infirmary,” Sarki said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Hurry!” I told them as they ran out.

I counted the minutes, pretending Drake’s tremors lessened and his breathing slowed. He didn’t even try opening his eyes anymore.

I swallowed the terror building in my throat. Now wasn’t the time for despair. Now was the time for action. All I needed was for Thomas and Sarki to be back.

To make things worse, we had no idea who did this. It could have been anyone. They had entered Drake’s chambers undetected and simply—I sucked in a sharp breath, pushing the images of Drake pinned to the wall from my mind.

I glanced around the room, praying whoever had tried to kill Drake wasn’t lurking in the shadows, waiting to finish what he had started.

As a precaution, I reached under Drake’s pillow and pulled the dagger from under it. I kept it close to my side in case I needed to defend our lives.

It took them a while, but finally Sarki and Thomas came back with all we needed. While Thomas swept through the chambers to make sure we were safe now, I instructed Sarki on how to make the potion—which herbs to crush first, the quantity, the order, when to apply her magic, and what kind of spell she needed. She did it all without questioning how I knew all of this.

When the herbs became a thick, dark blue potion and it bubbled without the need for fire, I told her to stop. I grabbed the spoon Thomas had brought, dipped it into the potion, and fed a spoonful to Drake’s mouth.

As the thick liquid went down his throat, he coughed and tried to spit it out. I placed my hand over his mouth. “Swallow it. I know it tastes bad and the texture doesn’t help, but please swallow it.”

I didn’t think he was hearing anything at the moment, but as I poured more of the potion into his mouth, he started swallowing—and gagging.

“That should be enough,” I said, after ten spoonfuls.

The three of us watched Drake with hawk eyes.

“I don’t see anything,” Thomas said, his voice breaking.

“Wait,” I said, praying it had worked. Praying it would work. “His wound is deep. It might take a while.” At least, I hoped that was the only problem.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the stake was pushed out and Drake’s wounds started closing.

I let out a relieved sigh and content tears filled my eyes. I smiled at Sarki and Thomas, and found they looked as relieved as I felt.

Another long moment passed and Drake groaned. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced at me. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” I asked, running my hand over his face. I felt the need to touch him, to feel his chest rising with each breath he took, to see the color returning to his beautiful face.

“I …” He pushed up and groaned, his hand going to his chest. His eyes widened. “I was pinned to the wall, like Reynard had been.”

“Prince Drake,” Thomas started. “Did you see who did it?”

Drake frowned, thinking. “No. I was sleeping, then I was pulled up and pinned to the wall. Everything happened too fast, in the dark, and I had been half asleep.”

“You didn’t even catch a scent?” Sarki asked.

He shook his head. “I … Like I said, I was half asleep. I remember too many scents, but half are probably from my dreams.” He glanced from Thomas, to Sarki, to me. “Wait …” He glanced down at his shirt and the floor, soaked in red blood. “How am I alive now?”

A wide smile took over Sarki’s lips. “It was all Thea’s doing. She knew exactly how to heal you.” I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or curious, but right now, I didn’t care. All that mattered was that Drake was fine.

“What did you do?” Drake asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.

I shrugged. “I was always curious and studied Wiccan. I learned a potion or two.”

I ignored Sarki’s heated stare, one that told me she knew I wouldn’t have been able to find the recipe for a healing potion like that in a random book at the library.

“Are you okay, Prince Drake?” Thomas asked.

Drake took a long breath. “I think so. Thank you for your help, Thomas. You too, Sarki.”

“My pleasure.” Sarki pushed up to her feet. “Since you’re okay, I’ll return to my chambers. It’s still the middle of the day, and I have a long night ahead of me.” She waved us goodbye and sauntered out of the bedroom like a top model on a catwalk.

After some more questions of “are you sure you’re alright?” Thomas shuffled out of bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Once alone, Drake took my hand and stood, pulling me with him. He held my hand tight and stared down at me, his eyes with a new shine. “I have no idea how you did it, but thank you.”

Swallowing hard, I took a step back. Rumors would spread, even though I hoped Thomas and Sarki didn’t tell anyone about it. But, once Drake was well enough and thought about it, he would know something was amiss. He would put two and two together. He would probably feel betrayed and question me.

Better if I told him the truth myself. “I have something to tell you,” I forced out.

He lifted an eyebrow, proving to me the healing potion had really worked and he was doing well already. “What is it?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, sure he would hate me with my next words. “I’m a witch.”