A dull throb pounded in my skull as sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains of my room, turning the dim space into an unwelcome assault on my senses. I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. The hangover was worse than the one I'd suffered during Frederick's betrothal party—back when I'd naively accepted drink after drink to prove I could handle myself among seasoned revelers.
Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled toward the polished silver mirror by the dresser. My reflection greeted me with a mess of tousled auburn hair and bloodshot eyes, shadows darkening the corners like bruises. My shirt clung to me, slightly damp from the restless sleep I'd endured. With an exhale, I pulled it over my head, tossing it onto a nearby chair.
