My throat burns, raw and sore from endless retching. I really thought I could endure this, but two weeks of Queen Juneth forcing me to make myself sick has left me doubting everything. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

We’ve moved on from the torturous walking sessions. Now, I’m being drilled relentlessly in the art of serving tea. It’s a task I already know well, one I’ve executed perfectly before, but naturally, nothing I do will ever satisfy her. It’s ...