CIARA
The pain in my shoulder woke me up. It was a sharp, deep ache that made it hard to even drag air into my lungs, and every time I tried to shift my weight, my limbs felt completely pinned down against the mattress. Right next to my head, a heart monitor was beeping too fast, the loud rhythm making my skull throb.
I forced my eyes open and looked around. I wasn't in my bedroom in the eastern wing anymore. The room was much larger, smelling heavily of chemicals, with rows of glass vials lined up on the counters. I was lying flat on my back, the sheets damp from sweat. The gray tunic dress I had been wearing during the attack was torn wide open at the shoulder, showing dark, swollen lines where the rogue's blade had cut into my skin.
But the physical ache wasn't the only thing happeni
