Rose's heart was still beating wildly as she got to her room. What was that? She didn't get the chance to look closely or confirm what she saw, but it was pretty clear. The scars on the crown prince's back were almost like the one on his right calf, as though the skin had stretched to close up the gap. Why did the crown prince have such scars on his back? How had she never noticed?
She knew why; he was rarely completely naked in her presence. He always had his robe on. She had never seen any opportunity to see his back.
Rose shook her head. She wasn't curious. The crown prince's scars had nothing to do with her. Her predicament was completely different and separate from his.
Rose pushed herself away from the door and walked to the bed, throwing herself on it. She would try to get some sleep, which shouldn't be too hard—she was exhausted from all the thinking and trying to remember, not to mention the anger she felt from failing continuously.
