A Glass of Wine
*A/N: The contents of this chapter touch upon dark themes that might disturb some readers. You have been warned.*
Normally, waking up was a slow, gradual process. I'd always found sleep to be thick and heavy, like being dipped in honey, and it took time to shake the cobwebs off my brain and rub my eyes open.
But not today. The deep evenness of my lethargic breathing turned short mid-breath, and my eyes shot open. The banquet! Dread settled in my heart as I looked around wildly, expecting the sting of the slave crest to appear at any moment.
It never did. Instead, I found myself in an unfamiliar room, far away from any sort of commotion. It was as large as any of the royal suites I'd seen, even Soltair's. White, plush carpet, four oak wardrobes, a massive bed, and several chairs scattered around a table. Light came from a small crystal chandelier fixed to the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow.