Cassandra Vitale
The room slowly coming into focus, a blurry canvas that gradually sharpened into recognizeable shapes. A dull ache throbbed in my head, a constant reminder of me being sedated. My throat was dry, my lips a bit parched, I tried to move but my body felt heavy and unresponsive.
As my consciousness returned, a wave of nausea washed over me. I turned my head to orient myself. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic. I was lying on a hard, uncomfortable bed, my wrist and ankles bound with thick ropes.
I continued scanning the room, my gaze falling on the figure emerging from the shadows, her face illuminated by a flickering candle. I squinted my eyes to see who it was. My gaze fell on Selena the chief maid, her expression a mixture of concern, and a hidden glint of malice.
"You're awake," she said, her voice soft and her eyes that held a cold, calculative look. "How are you feeling?"
