Amelia’s POV

My stomach twisted.

I knew this “game.” Last time, he’d tied me to a chair, blindfolded me, and let his goons throw cold water and insults at me for hours, laughing while I begged them to stop.

The memory hit like a hammer, and panic surged through me.

“No!” I screamed, thrashing as the servants grabbed me. I kicked, clawed, bit—I didn’t care. Anything to keep them off me. But their hands were iron, their expressions cold. One of them struck me hard across the ...