Her sister was silent for a moment. “You know the risk of that. Even if you could negate the mating bond while Adare is still alive, we don’t know what will happen in your case. You were in a coma and you could very well return to that state. This is an enormous risk you’re taking.”

Her life force was fading anyway, and the excruciating slowness of it all was terrifying. “We don’t know that. It’s possible I could be fine. Maybe even human again.”

“We’re going to talk about this before you do anything. A lot,” Faith warned. “I’ll support whatever you decide, and you know it.”

She did know that. Finally, Faith was happy, and Grace hadn’t wanted to worry her about her own decline, since there was nothing that could be done. It wasn’t like she’d just accepted her fate. She’d met with several Realm doctors, and they’d all been stumped. The queen was her last option. “I agree about talking.” At that point, she’d have to tell Faith everything.

“Okay. Have fun at Realm headquarters and I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Grace ended the call. She reached for the manila folder on the adjacent seat and flipped through the police report of the night seven years ago when she was injured by a burglar who’d broken into her home. Though Realm soldiers were satisfied that the burglar had since been caught, it didn’t feel right to her. According to the report, the neighbor had heard the sounds of a struggle and pounded on the door. The guy had taken off out the back door, and she had been found injured inside. Yet Grace remembered none of it.

She took a sip of her strawberry milkshake and dropped the file. The contents were memorized by now.

Okay. She could do this. Taking in a deep breath, she opened her window and tossed her phone out into the park garbage can. Though it was Realm-issued and couldn’t be hacked, she was sure the Realm soldiers could trace her through it.

Rolling up the window, she headed back onto the main road for a six or seven hour drive. She had to do this.

Finally, after too many mental debates to count, she reached the outskirts of Denver. Her heart rate picked up, and she practiced her breathing exercises, trying to ignore the constant headache. She turned the car’s ancient navigation back on and drove through the quiet streets, maneuvering between neighborhoods with stately brick homes to an area of apartment buildings surrounded by mature trees.

Her temples ached and her stomach clenched.