Joanne’s POV
The gown itched. No matter how many times, Mary, the new slave assigned to help at my lessons, smoothed the fabric or tugged the seams straight. The dress clung awkwardly to my shoulders. I wasn’t used to silk. I wasn’t used to shoes either; my feet were sore as I stood in the changing room, my eyes fixed on my new appearance.
I barely recognized myself anymore.
Back in Long Lake, I ran barefoot more often than not… through mud, leaves, even snow when I had to. Hiding meant speed, and shoes only slowed me down. My hair was always a tangled mess, my nails rimmed with dirt, my skirts torn at the hem from climbing trees or scratching through brush.
Wild one, they used to call me, not with affection.
Now, standing in a palace of marble and glass, I tugged at the stiff sle
