Maya's POV The servant's quarters were worse than my cell had been. At least in the dungeon, I'd had my own space, even if it was tiny and cold. Now I shared a cramped room with three other servants, sleeping on a thin mattress on the floor while they whispered about me in the dark, calling me cursed and dangerous. Mrs. Harrow woke us before dawn every morning with sharp commands and assignment lists. The other servants got normal duties, tending the gardens, cleaning the guest rooms, helping with meals. I got the jobs no one else wanted. "Rodriguez," she snapped on my third morning as a servant, "you're on dungeon duty today. Empty the waste buckets, scrub the floors, bring meals to any prisoners we have." The dungeons. They were making me clean the place where I'd been imprisoned, where I'd nearly died from silver poisoning. I wondered if that was Seraphina's idea or just cruel coincidence. "Yes, ma'am," I said quietly, too tired to argue. The work was backbreaking. My body w
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