I was dragged down to the dingiest of the first floor servants’ quarters and tossed into the room. My hands and knees ached where they connected with the hard stone floor, but I made no sound. All I could do was try and put all my hate into one gaze as I stared directly into the eyes of my stepmother.

“You will work with the servants until you can learn your place. In one week, if you have been good, I will allow you to return to your second floor room. For now I want you to sit in there and think about what you have done!” she told me as she locked the door. She gave me one last scathing look and walked away. I heard her telling a cook that I was to be with the servants and be served half of their rations until further notice.

I curled up in a ball on the cot in the corner and sobbed harshly at the injustice of it all. I wanted to stab Adelind and stomp Margarete’s face into the ground. I wanted to rip Cristyne’s hair off and laugh in her stupid face. But mostly I just wanted to be back in my fathers arms.