~Selene’s POV~
The ceiling is unfamiliar.
That is the first thing. The particular angle of the light coming through curtains that hang differently than the ones I have woken to for three years, the texture of a plaster ceiling that belongs to no one I know, the absence of the sound the Manor made in the mornings — that specific creak of old stone settling into the cold.
I lie still and take inventory.
The room is small and clean. A single window faces east, which explains the light. The mattress is adequate. The pillow smells of commercial laundering and nothing else, which is its own relief — no trace of anything I am trying to put distance between myself and. On the nightstand: the velvet box, placed there last night by my own hand before I slept, so it would be the first thing I sa
