Next she stood on the bed, forcing her aching feet to bear the weight of her body. I’m good at this, she said stubbornly, because I’m small, so the weight on my feet is less. But all she could see through the window was sky, and the tips of one tree whose leaves had turned gold. The wind was ferocious. Sometimes it slammed against the walls.

This was her inventory: her bed; its sheets, blankets, and pillows; the pajamas she wore, which were dark and soft; the bandages on her toes; the chamber pot; one piece of paper with a drawing on it; her thoughts; and her own body.

Her body ached with frostbite and thirst. Her body coursed with anxiety too, but she met it, battled it back, with long, steady breaths and determination. Irrationally, she wished more than ever for her mother’s ring to hold on to, something hard and real.

The conversation with Giddon on the ship, under the moon, had also been real. I’m not stronger than my captors, she thought, trying to lick moisture into her dry mouth. Dreaming of a drink, and a peppermint, and a toothbrush. They’re stronger than me. But I’m stronger than the way they’re trying to make me feel.

Okay, she thought, sitting down again. Let’s think.

Chapter Fifteen

On the Sunday following Lovisa’s adventure with the house guard, she wasn’t sure whether to expect her father’s arrival for their weekly walk home to Sunday dinner. It was a bit of a tradition, one Lovisa treasured: half an hour spent alone with her kinder parent, talking about whatever they liked. But if her mother thought she was a dirty slut who kissed the guards, would she still be invited to Sunday dinner?

Then a knock came, as always. Sitting at her desk surrounded by papers and books, she called for her father to enter, then waited, a bit nervous, as nothing happened.

“Come in!” she called again impatiently, then crossed to the door and pulled it open.

Her father was talking with Mari Devret in the corridor, asking after his studies, his family. “Would you like to join us for dinner?” she heard Benni ask Mari, whose eyes brightened with quiet acknowledgment of Lovisa when he saw her. Mari was a tall boy with a fine-boned face, a thin gold scarf around his neck. Gold had always been Mari’s favorite color; it suited his warm brown skin. Lovisa could remember him at four or five, asking his mother to knit him a soft gold hat. When she did, he wore it every day for two winters.

Lovisa mouthed Yes, please to him behind her father’s back.

Mari twitched a smile at her. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I wish I could, but I have too much work to do.”

“Your parents will be there,” said Benni.