I didn't sleep. I couldn't.
Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in the library. I felt the rough grain of the bookshelves against my back. I felt the heat of his palm sliding up my thigh. I tasted the whiskey and violence on his tongue.
My body is exhausted, but my mind is a wired, frantic mess. I’m pacing the length of my gilded cage, wearing a silk robe I found in the closet. It’s champagne-colored, delicate as a whisper, and worth more than everything I own combined. It feels like a costume. A shroud.
I turn toward the window, watching the guards patrol the garden below.
Click.
I spin around, clutching the lapels of the robe together. I expect a maid. Or maybe Nikos coming to lecture me about duty.
The door swings open, hitting the stopper with a heavy thud.
Stavros walks in.
