Maria fluttered her eyes open, staring at the circular wrought iron lamp held by chains in the ceiling. There were eight candles on it, making it the primary source of light in this room. The bed was soft. The room was warm and well-lit. And yet Maria wasn't comfortable. And yet Maria hated this place. Maria slowly sat up on the bed, groaning as she ran her slender fingers on her messy blonde hair. She couldn't remember how she ended up falling asleep. Did the prince slap her as well or punch her in the stomach, which made her lose consciousness? But she was not feeling any pain in her stomach or cheek, so she figured that wasn't the case.
Did I just fall asleep because of exhaustion? Or because of stress from everything that happened?
The image of Alaia groaning in pain and falling to the ground crossed her mind as worry engulfed her again. Her almond chocolate eyes widened as she looked around the room.
