Something heavy was grabbing me, pinning me down. And it was dark, all so dark. Wetness clung to me, slicking my bare skin, while something soft was pressing against me like the tongue of some giant creature, giving life and texture to the sickly-sweet onion smell sticking to everything.

I thrashed suddenly, certain that I was being devoured. A heavy blanket, which had been draped across my face, slid off the side of the bed and onto the floor.

I gasped, sucking in cold air that made me sputter and cough. Rolling onto my side, I meant to hang my head over the edge of the bed in case I got sick.

I wasn’t alone.

Standing at the foot of the bed, now staring down at me with a look of disgust, was Agrona. Cecilia lingered next to him, her expression caught between nervousness, dismay, and embarrassment.

“I’ll take my leave then,” Agrona said, his ruby eyes turning on Cecilia. “No more delays, Cecil dear. You leave in the morning.”

“Yes, High Sovereign,” Cecilia said as she bowed deeply. “I’m ready.”

My thoughts moved like molasses as I struggled to understand what the two were saying. A spark cut through the sluggishness, however, bringing me back to the last thing I remembered. “The regalia…” My tongue was thick and unwieldy, my mouth desert-dry. I moistened my lips and tried again. “What happened during the bestowal?”

…

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