Phoebe's POV
Four days had passed since I'd locked myself away in this room, hiding from the world after Perry nearly strangled me to death. The king hadn't bothered to check on me since he'd dumped me here once Helen confirmed I'd survive.
Mason kept bringing meals, but I played dead every time she knocked. I'd stashed the poison deep in the bookshelf, tucked behind some romance novel I'd been reading before my life turned into a nightmare.
But I couldn't dodge Mason forever—she showed up three times daily like clockwork.
"How're you holding up?" Mason's eyes lingered on the bandages wrapped around my throat, her face twisted with sympathy. "God, I'm so sorry this happened to you."
"He was having nightmares. He didn't mean it." The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Why the hell was I defending him?
Mason's expression shifted, like she thought I was in denial about how screwed up my situation really was.
