I realized it was a threat. The type that stays in the air like smoke, and was thick and suffocating, and wrapped around my throat until I could barely breathe. His words had been spoken with that exasperating patience, which he always used as armor, yet I had seen that there was a flash of something dangerous in his eyes. Something which promised consequences.
I burst into the room and slammed the door against the frame. The noise reverberated down the deserted corridor. But I needed it. I had to get the impression that there is some control, however, it was short-lived.
The ache in my chest rose with each step through the length of my prison--because that's what it was, no matter how opulent the silk bed-linen, the costly the paintings on the walls. A gilded cage was still a cage. And
