Raven lay in bed, black silk sheets cool against her skin where they'd slid low on her hips. The clock on the nightstand glowed blood-red. 1:07. The numbers burned into her eyes and wouldn't blur no matter how long she stared.
Sleep wasn't coming.
Not from fear. That old poison had burned out somewhere between the rooftop ambush and the Council chamber. This was something else entirely. Something alive and unnamed, moving low in her belly, slow and insistent, refusing to go back to sleep no matter how still she held herself.
