Warning Rated PG+18
Grace twirled and leaned into the vanity, watching her reflection in the mirror. The moment she came into the picture, she froze. Light orange hair flowed over one shoulder. Her hair. Familiar. Her green eyes were polished, with crescent-moon bruises underneath. Also familiar.
She reached out. Her fingertips pressed into the glass. Cool, solid. Real. If she lifted her gown, she would see the scars that marred her abdomen and legs. She knew it.
She hadn’t morphed into Mistress Leticia overnight, then. Or, hell, perhaps she and the mistress looked alike? Goodness, there were more questions than answers. How was this even possible?
"How did I get here?" Grace asked, turning back around to face the servant girl. Then halted when a familiar voice echoed.
I need you
