The Society of Truth headquarters, fifty-eighth floor, at night.
This was a room with walls covered in pink roses.
The bed was large. On the nightstand sat a row of stuffed animals, large and small. From a faded old rabbit to a new teddy bear with its fur still fluffy, they were squeezed tightly together, like a troop of guards watching over a sleeping Princess.
Cheris lay on her side, tightly clutching the small, three-inch-long sword to her chest.
She had changed into a pure white silk slip. Thin spaghetti straps rested on her shoulders, revealing her delicate collarbones and a small patch of pale skin.
The hem of the dress only reached mid-thigh, and her two long legs were curled up slightly.
Her flaxen hair was splayed across the pillow, making her face seem even paler, to the point that even her lips had lost their color.
Her breathing was steady, her chest rising and falling gently. Her eyelashes were perfectly still; she was sound asleep.
