LYRA'S POVThe floor is cold.That is the first thing I notice every morning. The second thing is the ache in my knees. I have been scrubbing these hallways since I was old enough to hold a brush.Before the sun even thinks about rising, I am on my hands and knees. My brush scratches against the stone floor. My bucket of soapy water smells like lye and failure. The packhouse hallway stretches in front of me like a never-ending river of dirt. Behind me, the kitchen staff shouts and bangs their pots. Above me, in warm beds, my family sleeps.I am the Beta's daughter. But no one treats me like one."Faster, Lyra!" Marta's voice cuts through the morning like a whip. She is the head maid, and she hates me. I do not know why. Maybe because I remind her that her job could have been mine. "The Alpha's guests arrive this afternoon. Every speck of dust must be gone.""Yes, Marta," I say quietly.I dip my brush into the bucket and keep scrubbing. The soap burns my cracked knuckles. My back screa
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