The hall was alive from murmur of voices from different corners of the room to the clinking of crystal glasses. My reflection stared back at me from a gilded mirror in the corner, crown on my head felt heavier than it should and the gown Dominic had chosen for me felt like chains instead of fabric.

The royal banquet was for me or rather, for the version of me Dominic had paraded before them—the returning queen, the picture of grace and power. My face was painted into a mask of composure, but inside, I was breaking.

“Chin up, Serena,” Dominic said in a low and commanding tone as he leaned...