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Preview:

Katerina’s P.O.V.

Something sticky and warm drips onto my neck. It’s probably the same slightly green thing that runs down the cell walls. It’s as slow-moving as it travels down my neck as it is on the wall, and having to endure it as it travels over bone makes me shiver. A flicker of magic would sort it, and then maybe my lungs wouldn’t be so itchy— a flicker of magic would sort all my problems if you counted death as sorting things.

I heave a sigh that echoes limply around my prison, which was really just the basement of the coven’s keep. When they’d dragged me in here, I had only caught glimpses of where I was meant to die. I could’ve looked around and probably seen more than just the sticky walls and medieval torches, but I hadn’t been curious then, and I wasn’t curious now.

To be curious meant to think. To formulate thoughts and allow them to grow and branch out, and if I allowed mine to do that, then I’d think of my—

No. I wasn’t curious.