Suddenly, Sarani could not take any more. Cursing her uncooperative feet, she ran toward the back of the house and into the gardens beyond. The slight chill in the morning air was bracing enough to douse the heat billowing through her veins. She did not stop until she came to the large elm buttressing the perimeter wall at the very back of the garden.

How dare the duchess impugn her character? She was not a woman of poor integrity or lacking in moral fiber. She was proud of who she was. Her exterior—or happenstance of birth—she could not control. And besides, that should not bloody matter!

Sarani bit back a sob, covering her mouth with a fist. She wrapped her arms about herself, remembering how precious she’d felt last night at the ball. How magical it had been for a handful of moments—until Rhystan had left her without explanation and proceeded to dance with every unmarried female in attendance to the gloating smugness of his mother. Sarani’s heart had shriveled.

She’d been on the verge of falling for a fantasy.

Because it was a fantasy, wasn’t it?

Oh, she would not cry. Not for that poisonous woman. Not for Rhystan, not for anyone. She’d shed enough tears mourning circumstances she could not change. Like many others, she had not picked the life she’d been born into. Yes, she had privilege, but that privilege came with many other traps. Traps of belonging and erasure. Traps of never feeling like she was enough.

You are the product of love, my little bee. Never doubt how much you are loved. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head.

It’d been after some of the children at court had excluded her from their games, calling her Paste Princess. They’d tripped her in the courtyard, muddying her new dress and mocking her with other ugly names until she’d run away weeping. Her mother had cleaned her face, wiped her tears, and told her that she should hold her head high, rise above small-minded people, and never allow herself to be reduced by others.

It was a struggle, but she’d learned to tuck those feelings of inadequacy away. She could not control others; she could only control herself. But some days, like today, her courage and those lessons failed her. Some days, she wanted to disappear.

Sarani had never doubted she’d been cherished by her parents. They had defied expectation, propriety, and everything and everyone for love. But where had love gotten them? Spurned, criticized, and eventually murdered…with their daughter left to pick up the pieces in a world that had no place for people like her.

A tear of self-pity slipped free, marking a hot path to her chin.

“Princess, are you well?”

Hastily, Sarani swiped at her damp cheek and turned to see Asha approaching, a concerned look on her face.