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Time was an abstract concept as I laid in my cloud-soft bed. As my weight settled, the mattress molded to the right side of my body with perfect ease. A cocoon designed for restful slumber was holding me captive, and my brain was refusing to accept my fate. It was hard to tell if the faint crashing sound of waves was my own mind or that I had misjudged the distance between the estate and ocean while wandering around the orchard.
My mind dipped into the darkness.
Someone screaming my name made me bolt out of bed.
The floor was cold, jolting me into consciousness. The entire house was silent.
There were no waves, and more importantly, no voice.
I sank back into the mattress and flopped onto the pillows. It was nothing more than my mind playing tricks, but my heart still pounded almost arrhythmically.
I kept my breaths long. In and out, one after the other.
A spasm in my belly made me wince.
The cheese and the very small glass of wine were making a precarious home in my stomach. It was a mistake to accept more alcohol, but Antonio and his small group of refined Élite guests were all drinking. I was already feeling like a pariah, so why not? They introduced themselves, and they all had impressive titles which were quickly lost in the sea of my mind.
It had been made crystal clear to me that it was essential I learn how to fit in. No one was explaining how to act, what to say. My best bet lay in me playing a lethal game of “follow-the-leader.”
I hated it.
My fingers were growing numb.
At any point of my life, when stress overwhelmed me, my heart kept a pace that was a few beats too fast to sink into peaceful sleep. Though my eyes were closed, my mind was alive with random moments from my life—nightmares and foolish daydreams alike accompanied me through weary dreamlands.
Despite thick walls, the inconceivable grandiosity of this house amplified all sorts of sounds. Quiet footsteps, creaking floorboards, and the distant murmur of words that were impossible to decipher.
I rolled over, grabbed one of the other overstuffed pillows on my bed, and anchored it over one of my ears. The sounds were much more muffled after that, but the palpitations of my racing heart refused to halt.
Hours stretched on.
There was a surreal limbo period when I might have been asleep, or I might’ve merely been escaping into a memory. Regardless of where I had been, I was yanked away as soon as the shrill ringing of the alarm clock bells filled my room.
I bolted upright, the mass of pillows around me tumbling to the ground.
One glance at the clock told me that I had close to an hour to get ready before I needed to eat breakfast. It would be a tight squeeze, but a part of me preferred constrictions to the endlessly drawn-out rotation of time in this place. After I’d gotten back from my walk through the orchard, the rest of the afternoon had felt like water torture.
My hand smacked down onto the button at the top with enough force that the clock fell down. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and my painfully-swollen feet connected with the soft carpet. Too much salty cheese.
A yawn escaped my mouth, and I stretched my back before standing up. The silk pillowcase had done a surprisingly good job ensuring that my hair hadn’t come out looking like a bird’s nest after a night of my tossing and turning.
I had barely taken two steps before a soft knock came at my door. My lips pressed together in a tight line while I crossed toward the door and opened it.
Isolda was smiling and waiting there with a neatly folded stack of clothes.
“¡Buenos días! I hope you slept well, Renata. I’ve brought these for you.” She marginally raised her arms, showing off the clothes.
I eyed her and the clothes warily before she walked right in.
A sour taste filled my mouth.
“Buenos días,” I grumbled. “Adelante.” I hoped that she understood the irony of me telling her to come in after she had intruded on my private space. Again.
If Isolda did understand, she didn’t show it. I stared at the closed curtains in front of the window as the young woman walked to the dresser on the other side of the room. She opened and closed the doors with quick motions, neatly tucking in all of the clothing she had brought me.
After she was done, she looked up at me and smiled. “There are undershirts, brassieres, and other appropriate undergarments in this drawer,”—she gestured as I yawned—“and there is exercise clothing in here. You are meeting with your team this morning, though I expect you shall travel to the training center later today.” She stepped back and opened one of the wardrobe doors.
Inside, there was a smart golden suit. I blinked and my heart picked up.
