I traced my fingers over the cold stone walls of my room, feeling every bump and groove. The sunlight coming through the small, barred window made long shadows on the barely inhabitable room. It all felt like a joke, everything my life had become in the past few weeks felt like a joke.
I was in the slave quarters, not even the servant's wing.
Damien felt it was much more than I deserved and that I needed to stay with my kind.
I closed my eyes, trying hard to remember what it felt like to walk on grass or feel the wind on my face. But those memories were fading fast, replaced by the heavy feeling of scratchy dresses and the constant trips to ‘slave balls’, as Damien liked to call it.
A place where nobles who felt they were above those of lesser birth would drag them behind as pets a
