The nights had started blending together since Madam Kaelene’s training began.

Every evening after she dismissed me, Mira, the quiet maid assigned to my room, would take my hands, massage in some fragrant cream, then slip warm silk gloves over my fingers.

It was strange, looking at my hands now. They didn’t look like the hands that once scrubbed muddy boots or bled from hauling buckets. They looked… royal.

But while my hands were getting used to this new life, my head was a mess.

Dinner ...