A Y L A
A sharp, shrill whistle tore through the room.
I jerked awake, heart pounding, blinking at the sudden noise. For a moment I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t remember the bed, the rough blanket, the unfamiliar smell of damp wood and old fabric.
Then it hit me.
The maids’ quarters. The punishment. The Mistress. The whip.
Pain rushed back into my body like a cruel reminder. I sucked in a breath and forced myself upright, even though every muscle screamed at me.
When I lifted my head, I saw all the other girls standing straight beside their beds, hands clasped in front of them, heads slightly bowed. The whistle blew again, harsh, sharp, unrelenting.
My gaze snapped toward the sound.
The Mistress.
She strode down the center of the room with the whistle between her teeth, blowi
