The point of the nightly punishments which could range from beatings to burnings- was to demonstrate who was in charge. The idea was to solidify within us that we were to obey, we were property. Don’t get me wrong, they never did enough to incapacitate us. We still had a job to do, so a dislocated shoulder or branded leg wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“Thank you,” I say to the warden.

The limp is barely noticeable the following day as I play my part in carrying the Duke’s palnquin to the throne. I steel my composure and accept that I am nothing but a vessel made to serve the house in which I’ve been assigned.