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Once I’m properly dressed, Olga escorts me from my room to the dining hall. The slit on the leg of my dress goes up to my shin, constricting some of my movement, which makes me even more uncomfortable. Anxiety roils in my bones, and my survival instincts warn me that this isn’t a dress I can fight in.

We approach the stone doors where Olga leaves me. Two guards open the doors as a servant announces my entrance.

All eyes are on me, Lord Rollo’s hungriest of all.

“You’re late,” he says.

“Am I?” My voice is cool and distant, a mask donned once more.

“We have already started our first course. Come here, pet, and eat your fill.” He pats his lap, and the court laughs at his lewd gesture.

I round the table, taking small, careful steps so as to not fall because of the constricting dress. As I get closer, I notice it.

The red blushing his cheeks. The glassy, unfocused eyes. The stench of sweat, sex, and wine.

I sit on the arm of his chair, and he immediately wraps a meaty arm around my waist, pulling me onto his lap once again.

I yelp from the pain as his fingers wedge between my ribs.

He sniffs my neck, and it takes all of me not to reach over the table, grab the glass of wine, and smash it over his head.

On that note, I lean forward, reaching for the goblet.

Lord Rollo moans, and I freeze. Underneath my skirts, I feel the length of him harden. Shivers erupt from the crown of my head, snaking down the column of my spine.

“This dress won’t do. Your legs are too pretty to be covered.”

I hold myself perfectly still, every muscle tense, every breath slow. My heart pounds heavily, betraying me. Lord Rollo’s hand, large and sweaty, grips the edge of my dress, and with a sharp tug, he rips open the slit, pulling it higher. A sickening wave of heat washes over me.

The court laughs. The sound is shallow and cold, and I fight the urge to pull away, to lash out, but that would be my end, wouldn’t it? A single misstep and Rollo would make good on every unspoken threat hanging in the air. The bulge in his pants and his glassy eyes tell me everything I need to know about Rollo’s intentions with me.

I swallow again, tasting bile, but remain still, a mask of serene composure.

Rollo leans close, his breath hot on my neck, his voice a hushed mockery. “By the end of next week, my pet, the Bride Binding ceremony will be upon us. You’ll be mine, forever. All of you. All your magic, all your strength, all your beautiful... resistance.”

The words scrape against my skin like the touch of an axe.

“You were a Teller before, weren’t you?” he continues, his voice louder now, enough for the others to hear. “A pretty little bird with a silver tongue, spinning stories for anyone who’ll tip. But no amount of clever words will save you now. Soon, you will sing your sweet little memories for only me and mine. Do you feel it? The weight of my power on your shoulders? You’ll bear it, girl. You’ll bear it, or break beneath it.”

I clench my hands into fists, willing myself to stay calm. I can’t afford to slip now, not when I’ll be thrown right back into the dungeons and my chances of escape narrow to zero. So I picture myself stabbing him with a fork instead. Right through the fucking balls.

That’ll make me sing, alright.

Lord Rollo is like most other men. Intoxicated by his own power—by his dominion over women, his ownership over me. But I know better. He’s underestimating me. He always has.

A sharp laugh from Uttert snaps me back into focus. “How about it, Akemi? Give us a little tune, would you?”

First I’m leashed like an animal and now this? They think their words will hurt, but my skin is thick. Tellers have long been scrutinized and demeaned for their work.

Rollo’s eyes narrow in twisted amusement. “Oh, yes. Sing, little bird. Let’s hear if your voice is as pretty as you.”

The room falls silent, the air thick with expectation. Every eye is on me, waiting for me to break. To humiliate myself. I’ve been forced to perform before under pressure, but never like this.

For a moment, I almost refuse, but there’s nowhere to run, no excuses ready on the tip of my tongue.

I stand slowly and am immediately relieved to be farther from the Jord Lord’s lap. I pause in the corner of the room and close my eyes, grounding myself in the rhythm of my heartbeat.

Then, I start.