‘It’s going to be all right.’ Rose’s panic joined the buzz of her magic. She pressed her palms against his chest, her fingers connecting around the knife as she felt for a pulse. Her hair fell around them like a curtain, as Ansel’s blood seeped out through her fingers. ‘Come back to us,’ Rose murmured, over and over, like a chant. Her fingers thrummed with the heat of her magic. She was pouring every bit of her energy into the prince’s body, trying to rouse his sleeping heart, but she couldn’t tell if it was working. ‘Please, Ansel. Please come back.’
