EMBER’S POV
Her face pales. Her brows pull into a tight furrow as she drags the memory back to the surface.
“I didn’t read the exact hour off a clock, if that’s the stick you’ve come to beat me with,” she says, her voice hard. “I read it off Hale.”
I freeze.
“I watched her linger around that wing when she had absolutely no business being there,” Marjorie says, her chest rising. “I watched her slip out of those girls’ rooms in the dead of night. And every single time she walked away, their fever spiked. Every time she hovered over their beds, they faded a little more. I can’t tell you exactly what she wanted, but she always had this sudden, strange fixation on them right before they fell ill. Inviting them to shop with her, showering them with treats, insisting they join her for her hob
