Natalia’s POV
The following morning, I found myself back at the bedside table with the ruby-encrusted knife in my hands, turning it over and over as I tried to recreate what had happened the other day.
I’d been at it for nearly an hour, holding the weapon flat on my palm, willing the rubies to glow again with that otherworldly light. But no matter how hard I concentrated, no matter how much I tried to channel whatever energy I’d felt before, the knife remained stubbornly cool and lifeless.
“Come on,” I muttered under my breath, lifting the blade and pointing it toward the wall again. “Stab that wall. Cut something. Do anything.”
Nothing.
I lowered the knife with a heavy sigh. Maybe I really had imagined the whole thing. Maybe pregnancy hormones were making me see things that weren’t t
