Elvira slowly opened her eyes. Sheer white bed hangings were the first thing her sluggish mind saw. She was lying on the same four-poster where Wivior had expressed his passion for the witch she was for the first time.
The curtain moved a little on Elvira's right, and a figure appeared behind it. She sat up. It was Wivior.
"Elvira, I can't believe that you're awake!" Wivior sat on the bed and rubbed her hands vigorously. His puffy, restless eyes were moist with tears of relief.
"What happened?" Elvira retracted her hands. "What am I doing here? Weren't I inside Doctor Oliver's lab?"
Wivior pushed up his folded sleeves. His cream-colored shirt was wrinkled. And his thick, curly locks were all in disarray. It was strange to see the perfect prince so out of sorts.
"Elvira." He brushed his fingers against her arm. "I took you out of that container. You might not remember, but you have been unconscious for almost five days. "
