LAYLA'S POVThe morning starts the way it always does, with orders barked at me like I am little more than furniture.
"Layla," the head maid snaps. "You'll serve drinks to Lady Allora and her companions in the courtyard. Now."
A pit forms in my stomach instantly. My hands freeze around the stack of linens I've been folding. Of all the nobles, Allora is the one I dread most. These days, she never misses an opportunity to cut me down and to embarrass me. Yet there is nothing I can do.
I swallow hard and nod. "Yes, ma'am."
I carry a tray that has crystal goblets filled with wine. My fingers tremble as I adjust the weight. I tell myself over and over, be invisible, keep your head down, stay quiet.
I walk to the courtyard. The courtyard is bright. The sunlight brightens roses around the pergola. Allora and her circle of noblewomen sit on the couches like queens. I can hear them laughing as I walk down.
