*Isla*

“Good morning, dear,” Poppy says, pulling the curtains in front of the window open. I squint at the bright light and try to wake myself up. It took me forever to fall asleep last night, and now that I am awake, I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. My head is throbbing, and all I can think about is the dirty dreams I had about the king last night.

I mutter, “Good morning,” and manage to get my eyes to open as I sit up.

“Your breakfast is on the way. Would ...