When Aurora's eyes opened, the first thing she noticed was the blinding, piercing light above her.
It was a chandelier, dripping with crystal pieces that caught the light, each one refracting beams that seemed to stab at her tired, throbbing eyes.
She blinked against it, trying to make sense of where she was, but the entire room seemed to spin.
Her head pounded, and her throat felt like sandpaper.
She coughed—a rough, dry sound that only made her wince more.
As she tried to sit up, Aurora suddenly felt something heavy clinking against her wrists.
Her heart skipped a beat.
She looked down, struggling to process what she was seeing.
Her wrists and ankles were chained to the bed, thick, cold metal links that led down to the bedposts.
Panic surged through her like a lightning bolt.
She tugged on the chains as hard as she could, yanking them over and over, but they didn't budge.
It was no use.
