“Sit down, Erita,” Ferla said when the older boy tried to slip out of his seat too. Erita was doing a better job of not crying, but his face was tight, his eyes big. “I want you to hear Lovisa’s definition of a slut, so that later, you can tell your brothers. Lovisa? We’re waiting.”

Lovisa forced her voice calm. “A slut isn’t anything. There’s no such thing. It’s just a nasty word people use to try to make other people ashamed for wanting to be happy.”

Ferla swept around the table and was reaching for Lovisa before Lovisa even understood what was happening. Ferla’s fingers clutched the twists in Lovisa’s hair and pulled her up from her seat so fast and hard that Lovisa couldn’t help crying out in pain. Ferla began dragging Lovisa across the room by her hair, her fox bobbing around on her back, comically, like he was enjoying some kind of carnival ride.

“You little slut,” Ferla was whispering between her teeth, spitting from the force of her words. “You can kiss as many academy students as you want, you can have sex with them, you can even get pregnant and have their babies, I don’t care, but the next time you put your dirty mouth on an employee, I will wash your mouth clean myself, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother,” Lovisa gasped.

“Go to your father,” Ferla said, shoving her through the doorway and into the corridor. “He wants to speak to you.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Ferla spun back, returning to the dining room. Lovisa heard her clipped voice say, “Eat your breakfast, Erita, and stop sniveling.”

For a moment, Lovisa stood, shivering in the corridor. She touched her hair, checking to see that it was still in place. She wanted to take it down and massage her scalp. She wanted to be in her bed in her dormitory bedroom, where things like this didn’t happen.

Then, feeling calmer, she crossed to her father’s library. It was over now; Lovisa wasn’t afraid of her father.

“Papa?” she said, pushing the door open.

“Lovisa,” he said, looking up from his desk. “Come in.”

He folded his hands over his papers, watching her with a grave expression. Attentive, fatherly, concerned. Lovisa was ashamed suddenly of the part she was about to play, lying to her father, but at least the shame was helpful. She allowed it to show on her face.

“Lovisa,” said her father. “Your mother and I are considerably disappointed in you.”

“Papa, I only kissed him,” said Lovisa.

“There is no ‘only,’” said Benni, “when a young man we’ve entrusted with this family’s safety has his hands on our child.”

“Are you sure you’re angry with me? It sounds like you’re angry with him.”