We had fought. Prince Charming had tied me up. How could that be? I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, my mind a jumble. So much for breaking it off gently, I thought. The humor helped my mind clear, but I couldn’t laugh. What would happen next? I listened for footsteps in the hall outside, but there were none. He wasn’t coming back. But no one else was coming to rescue me either. “Help?” I tried to scream, experimentally, but the gag was so effective, I could barely hear myself. Well, it might have been the wrong person who heard you anyhow, I thought. I looked down, taking stock. The ties were cutting into my wrists and ankles, and one of my knuckles was bleeding. Probably I’d scraped it hitting the prince. But if that was my worst injury, I was still capable of rescuing myself. I sat up and managed to push myself off the couch into a standing position. I could feel the blood rushing from my head, and I swayed—dangerously so, considering that my ankles were tied tightly together.
