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Was he the one who allowed my mom to be abused?

Hidden railroad logs, unconsented medical requests, the High Office becoming enmeshed with the clinic?

None of this is right.

“If things are falling apart and coming to this, it’s because weak men are allowing it to happen. And I won’t be a part of that.” Turning on my heel, I head for the door.

“Lady Daily.” The chair squeaks when she rises.

“Yes, Yelena?” I stop for a beat, and Yelena reaches out, handing me an envelope.

“Straight from the desk of High Steward Powers. I’m sure you’ve been looking forward to this.”

My heart thunders against my ribcage as my fingers wrap around the elegant white envelope, sealed with a wax stamp of the maiden’s crest.

“Thank you…” I give a nod, then fly out the door straight to the nurse’s quarters. I close the door behind me and take a seat on the little cot in the corner. It’s a small room with simple comforts for us to rest between shifts. The glow of the setting sun over the mountains passes through the little window, offering just enough light for me to read. My fingers tremble and quake so rapidly that I barely manage to tear open the envelope and slip out the letter.

Dear Lady Violet Daily,

Thank you for your interest in the Maidens of Aurelia Colonial Initiative.

At this time, we regret to inform you that your application has been declined

by all recipients.

As you are still a valued member of Aurelia’s Colonial Aristocracy, your

well-being is of the utmost importance to High Steward Powers. The Office of

The High Steward will oversee all arrangements regarding your relocation

to the residence of Mr. Richard Danilova, who has been appointed as your

permanent guardian. Expect your relocation to take place within three days.

If you wish, you may reapply in one year.

Wishing you well,

High Steward Powers

How could this happen?

My standing within the aristocracy should have been enough on its own to secure at least one acceptance.

I was right all along; no one wants you.

My heart sinks, nausea bubbling up into my throat.

Marcas is an unpredictable beast. If he gets hold of me, we will clash until he no longer wants me. He won’t divorce me; he will eliminate me. And I know all too well what will happen to me if I go back to Richard.

That leaves only one acceptable option.

Tears sting my eyes as the ache in my chest grows. I was wrong. I should have left with Cain when I had the chance. Let him hide me away in a basement, a closet, behind the wall, or even under his bed. Wilted but alive, with him, is better than not alive at all. But I didn’t listen, and now he’s gone.

Three deep breaths.

It’ll all be over soon.