Is this part of his punishment—forced fasting? Even more disturbing is the thought he has the power to flat out starve me for the next month if I don’t please him.

I’m alone in this, unable to ask for help or leniency. This sadistic man at my side might break me before the month is up, and there’s nothing I can do about it, short of doing something stupid, like trying to escape.

Or towing his line.

And right then I realize where my power lies—in obedience.

Complete and utter, without question, obedience. The rebellious girl in me revolts, claws out and ears steaming with indignant anger. But the smart girl in me knows how to survive.

Halfway through the main course, Mr. Bordeaux calls for Loren again, and the manservant hands his master a velvet bag with a drawstring closure.

“My gift to the queen,” Mr. Bordeaux says, grabbing my attention as he tips the bag and dumps several diamonds onto the table in front of me.

Twelve of them, I’m guessing, and a quick count confirms my assessment.

“As you all know, I’m having her crown designed. These diamonds will go into the final setting…assuming she gets to keep them all.” He scoots in his seat and takes me by the chin, and I stare over his shoulder at the white dinnerware, avoiding eye contact.

“For each transgression you make, my queen, I will take away a diamond.” He pauses, the unwavering weight of his stare making my face flush. “Earning it back will be painful and degrading.”

A collective murmur travels around the table, until Mr. Green Eyes to the left of me—from the House of Gemini—speaks up. “What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t hold her gift over her head like that.”

“I can and I will. It’s my gift to give,” he says, tone soft as his thumb rubs the line of my jaw, “and that means it’s mine to take away.”

4

The morning after the dinner with the Brotherhood, Mr. Bordeaux went away on a business trip, leaving Loren to give me a proper tour in his absence.

“You’ll help with meal prep,” he says, showing me around the massive kitchen with its ivory cabinetry and gleaming quartz countertops. He opens several drawers and cupboards, pointing out where to find everything from pots and pans to spices. “Master Bordeaux doesn’t eat until lunchtime, so your kitchen duties won’t start until eleven.”

We stop at the center island, and Loren goes over the menu for the coming week before touching on my cleaning duties. “After lunch prep, you’ll do some light housekeeping until it’s time to prepare for dinner.” He pauses, assessing me. “Do you have experience with any of this?”

“Domestic tasks weren’t high on my uncle’s list of priorities.”