The third day of Sara’s strike began with the usual bustle of maids around the room. Sara felt guilty that she didn’t know the names of any of the servants. Lily had never written them down in her diary, and Sara knew it would be odd for her to ask at this point.

Nanny approached the bed and stared down at Sara with a cold expression.

“My lady, this will be your final day in bed,” she said. “Your father will not stand for this nonsense.”

Sara ignored her and stared out the window. She was tired of lying in bed, but she had no clear plan of rebellion otherwise.

After Nanny and the maids left the room, Sara went to read the diary. Before she could even pick up the leather-bound journal, Duke Harrington threw the door open with a bang.

“This foolishness stops now,” he declared.

Sara crossed her arms like a petulant child and said simply, “No.”

Pink circles stood out on the duke’s cheeks as he glared at his daughter.

“How dare you?” He took several steps toward the bed. He was much larger than he had appeared when they were separated by a desk in his study. Sara flinched backward without thinking as he leaned over her.

“The prince decided to send a seamstress to adjust your gown for the banquet. Will you stay in bed and turn away his gift?”

Sara looked away and muttered, “That was the plan…”

The duke reached out and gripped her jaw with his hand. He forced Sara to turn her face and look up at him. The pink circles on his cheeks had spread, turning his face rosy with rage.

“You will get up and attend to your duties,” he began. Sara twisted and yanked her face away before he could finish speaking.

Wide-eyed and grimacing, Lily’s father released her and took a deep breath. Instead of backing down as Sara had expected, he suddenly lunged forward and took her neck in both hands.

“I own you,” he said through gritted teeth. “You are my daughter and you will obey me.”

Sara gasped as he strangled her. She could feel her windpipe grinding against itself.

“You will attend the debutante ball this week. You will be a role model for all of the young ladies in attendance. You will fawn over Crown Prince Henry and beg for his forgiveness for your behavior.”

 Her heartbeat roared in her ears.

“No…”

She could only whisper that single word.

“I suppose your defiance is my own failing,” said the duke. “I should have disciplined you harder as a child.”

He released one hand from her neck and slapped her so hard it hurt her teeth. “If you do not get fitted for your dress today, I will blind you with my own dagger and send you to a convent.”

Tears fell from Sara’s eyes and trailed down her cheeks. She waved her hands weakly to indicate that she couldn’t answer him while being strangled, even if it was with only one hand. He released her and stepped back from the bed, disgust written across his face.

“How… could you?” asked Sara in a raspy voice. She didn’t know if she meant the strangling, the threat of blinding, or all of it together.

“Accidents happen. The king does not need a troublesome crown princess. He will understand my decision. Think upon it.”

He left, clearly believing that he had solved the problem and nothing more needed to be said.

Sara cried involuntarily. The sobs wrenched out of her sore throat for a while before she could stop.

She eventually got up and went to the mirror. Red marks were already forming, and she knew Lily’s pale neck would be terribly bruised.

Sara didn’t want to hurt anymore. It took grit and determination to truly protest, and she found her resolve waning thin. She rang the bell for the maids and allowed them to dress her and take her to the sitting room without much more thought.

She was starving after three odd days of lying in bed and the pile of cookies in the sitting room tempted her. When the seamstress entered the room with her assistants, she frowned at the sight of Sara stuffing cookie after cookie into her mouth.

The team was professional and did not mention the deepening bruises on Sara’s neck. They added a high collar to the deep blue and gold evening gown without mentioning it.

The dress was a wonderful creation with tight sleeves, filigree details, and a flowing train. It would match well with the pseudo-militaristic outfit she had seen Henry wear at the tea party. 

After the fitting, Sara followed a maid back to Lily’s room. Her neck, calves, and left arm ached from holding positions for the seamstress. She wanted to sleep, though it was only noon. She didn’t even want to see Evren and complain this time.

A commotion from the hallway leading to the duke’s study made Sara pause. She heard a woman cry out, so she stopped following the maid and leaned around the corner.

“What is the use of a wife who cannot manage the household?”

It was Duke and Duchess Harrington. He was gripping his wife’s arm tightly and she was holding her face and crying. A lady’s maid was nearby, looking down and pretending to be invisible.

“I cannot believe I had to step in and speak to Liliana myself,” he spat. “You are worthless.”

Lily’s mother stood and took the abuse. Sara watched as the duke entered his office. 

The duchess turned to her maid. The crying woman slapped her servant hard. Before the maid could even cry out in pain, the duchess started walking quickly down the corridor toward Sara.

Sara slipped away and ran to Lily’s room as quickly as she could in her stupid heels and dress. She could rationalize the fact that the duchess was redirecting the abuse from her husband to the staff, but it was still shocking to see such blatant maltreatment from all parties.

As she entered her bedroom and shut the door, Sara slid to the floor and hugged her knees. The duchy was rotten.

The goddess thought she could change this? After everything that Liliana had been through, and everything Sara had experienced, she highly doubted that one teenage girl would change an entire world.

But maybe…

Her guilty conscience reared its ugly head and hissed, What happened to getting home, even if it took dying? You’re selfish. You only want to help because the goddess will reward you.

Sara shook her head to dispel the thoughts, but it was difficult.

She did want to go home more than anything. The fact that she could change things here didn’t make that desire go away. She wanted her apartment, her mom, even her boring job.

She was a coward.