A young woman bolted up from her bed and clutched her chest. She was panting. Her gaze darted across the room and it was hers, not his, not the King's—there was a loud pounding in her ears as she looked down into her hands. Hands that were devoid of blood.
She hadn't killed him?
"W-What?" She could hardly hear her own voice as she took a sharp inhale. Had it all been a dream? A shudder ran down her spine as she recalled it vividly. There was no foggy or muddled part in her mind… it had been all crystal clear.
It felt like she had done it all the same—
And yet she hadn't confronted the King at all! She hadn't even talked to him after the dinner, what use would it have been to speak about the Queen of Clovers? There had been no incident about it at all in the past—what she knew was Alice. She ought to worry more about that future threat than some mere eye goggling fools.
