“A good daughter should obey her parents, no matter what,” he says. “But you have disregarded my will at every turn, and you don’t know how badly it hurts me to punish you like this. Are you ashamed?”

“Yes.” I swallow my pride. “I’m very ashamed, Father.”

“Good. You should be. You should also be praying every night for your sister to restore us to wealth, since I clearly can’t depend on you, and…”

While he speaks, I shut my eyes and visualize my favorite fantasy: A pair of flying dragons circling our home and burning him alive until his skin and bones dissolve to ashes. Then, just in case someone is tempted to revive him with witchcraft, the dragons swallow every morsel of his dust.

Long ago, I might’ve felt terrible about this dream, but the past several months have only strengthened my resolve. All I need to do is stay quiet and smile, pretend as if I don’t mind his twisted abuse, and whenever his guard is down, I’ll run away to someplace he’ll never find me.

And try to befriend two dragons…

“That said, you are utterly useless to me,” he’s still talking, “and I swear if I didn’t promise your late mother that I’d take care of you, I would’ve abandoned you long ago.”

“It’s not too late for that,” I mutter.

“What’s that you’re saying?” he asks. “Are you requesting something?”

I want to ask for a mirror so I can finally see if the left side of my face looks as bad as its feels, or if the welts have left marks, but I can’t bring myself to beg.

“No, sir,” I say. “I’m fine.”

“Step into the light and let me see you, please.”

I push off the blanket and make my way to the base of the stairs—standing directly under the light.

“You’re even uglier now than you were before.” He shakes his head. “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson about disobedience now?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Will you ever hurt or betray this family again?”

“No, Father.”

“Good.” He opens the door wider, motioning for me to walk up the staircase.

I wince with every step and hold back a relieved sigh as rays of sunlight kiss my skin.

“It’s officially suitor season, so you’ll need to make sure this house sparkles like a crown every day,” he says. “It cannot look like this while Izzie is entertaining suitors.”

I nod, eyeing the pigsty they’ve created in my absence.

“I’ll do my best to convince Izzie’s eventual husband to take you on as a servant, but that’s only if you play your role properly.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

“I would hope so,” he says. “After you clean, prepare a lily and jasmine bath for your sister. Her skin needs to be as pure and virginal as she is.”

I hold back a laugh.

Izzie isn’t a virgin.

At all.

I’ve woken up multiple times to the sound of her panting and moaning outside the house. I’m not quite sure who the man is or what all he does to her under the moonlight, but her pleasurable cries for “Yes, more…More!” are unmistakable.