She felt softness under her back and her hands tied above. The air smelled of rose incense and camphor. Her hands moved down and cold metal gripped her wrists. Her saliva was sticky, glueing her lips. "Where am I?" she muttered groggily.
"You are with me, love," the voice was lovely, yet coarse.
The voice made her eyes wide open and her vision blurred. "Who are you?" she was afraid. She shook her hand and eyes, trying to see what lay beyond. "Don't worry," a hand touched her cheek, hard and prickly, "no one will hurt you."
Her eyes came back to her slowly, first showing her the red roof bordered by pink, then the golden chandelier from the middle, and the window to her left, from which wind came and fluttered her dress.
She was not wearing her armour or holding her bow. Her dress was white with golden threads and silver buttons. "Those were unruly for a lady, so I changed them," the voice came again.
