The maid hadn’t slept since last night. Her body still burned from the bond Anthea had forced on her, every breath dragging sharp pain through her ribs. She had cried until her throat went raw, but no one came. No one ever came.

By morning her face was pale, her hands shaking as she folded Anthea’s gowns, her chest aching with every move. She had always obeyed, always been loyal, but now it felt like she was dying little by little.

And she knew the truth: if she didn’t act soon, she would ...