Good.
His disgust was currently written across my skin in welts and cuts.
The beating hadn’t been that bad. I’d had worse in the pit. But this wasn’t about pain. It was punishment. A reminder.
He didn’t want to mar me permanently—not yet.
Maybe that just meant I needed to try harder.
I ran my hands over my newly cropped hair.
I liked it.
It was like cutting off the weight of every hand that had ever tried to touch me.
I felt lighter. Fiercer.
And it meant I wouldn’t be in Vael’s bed tonight.
Small favours.
Instead, I was in a windowless room. It was small and cramped and I struggled to control my breathing. The way it closed around me reminded me of the elevators at Shade Tower—tight, inescapable. My breath scraped my throat just trying to stay even.
I couldn’t lie down, so I crouched, closed my eyes and I hummed to myself until sleep took me.
And I dreamed.
The dream started the same way it always did.
I was following a small mouse through the west wing.
I knew where it was going. I always did.
To my father’s study.
To the muffled voices behind the heavy door.
Why do you keep bringing me here?
I didn’t say it aloud. I never did.
But the question still got an answer.
Remember.
Remember what? What is it?
Remember!
I saw the door. I heard the voices—closer now.
My father’s voice, tight with fear.
“If they find her, they’ll use her—”
“They can’t know she’s the one—”
The door slammed shut again.
