I have spent years perfecting the art of disappearing in these antechambers, yet Darcy Unwin sees straight through every layer I wear. Her instructions leave no room for doubt, from the way I must stand to the delicate garments she chooses to mark me as hers alone.
I tell myself each obedience is survival, that the heat in my skin comes only from the risk of discovery as she directs me toward a self I barely recognize. Her fingers linger on my sleeve now that the advisor has gone, the petition forgotten between us, and I know the next word from her lips will demand more than I have ever given.
She holds the power to remake me entirely, and I am already trembling at the thought of what she will take next.
