I bolt upright, gasping and drenched in sweat.
For a wild minute, I don't recognise where I am, clawing for my throat and checking if it is still intact.
At the feel of marks against my skin, I tumble out of bed, staggering for the mirror across the unfamiliar bedroom. I grip the dresser's edge and stare into the mirror, craning my neck.
"Oh gods..."
The skin of my neck is scorched with fingertips.
"Are you alright?"
I whirl, heart racing, and at the sight of Prince Rafe I push up the collar of my tunic, hiding unexplainable marks. It suddenly becomes imperative that I hide them, or whatever sorcery this is. I couldn't trust anyone in this place enough to confide in them. Not about the horrors of my nightmares. Not about the King of Ebonheart. Not about what I am.
