Tears streamed down Oriana's cheeks, her breath trembling painfully in her throat as she sprang to her feet. Her heart pounded violently against her chest, her head spinning with a dizzying ache.
Why did misfortune always follow her? Why did it always end like this—after every argument, after every misstep? Had she been cursed from birth?
Not minding the thin fabric of her nightwear, she bolted for the door. Her bare feet slapped against the cold floor, the chill biting through her skin.
In her frantic rush, she lost her balance and tumbled, a shard of glass piercing her left thigh. Pain seared through her, a sharp hiss escaping her lips as more tears blurred her vision.
With trembling fingers, she pulled the glass free. Excruciating pain throbbed through her leg, but her mind was consumed by a single thought: Icarus… she had to save him.
Blood dripped down her thigh, warm and sticky against her skin, yet the anguish in her body paled against the torment tearing at her chest.
