Yara’s POV

The linen was rough under my fingers and stiff with soap. My hands ached from scrubbing, my back burned from the cane strokes, and the water had long since turned murky, but I kept working.

Luna Yulia had given me this punishment herself. A reminder of my place. As if the pain in my back wasn’t reminder enough.

I wrung out the last sheet and draped it over the wooden rack. The salve I had applied earlier had done little to ease the sting, but I did not dare rest. If I stopped moving, I would remember too much.

I would remember my soft bed back home and...