Isadora just sat on the edge of her bed, a distant look on her face. Sleeping was not something she was looking forward to especially with the fresh memories of the nightmare. It still remained a mystery to her why Roselyn would blame her for her father's death. She had never met the Arcadian king in the first place. How then could she have caused his demise? And as far as she could remember, there was no king who had died recently apart from Alexander's father.
She picked a pillow and clutched it tighter, memories of Alexander holding hands with Roselyn surficing in her mind. She couldn't notice how hard she clutched the pillow at the mere thought. It was but just a dream. That was the only fact that calmed her down.
