Chapter 9. The Garden of Obedience

They roused her at the edge of dusk, the soft light drifting in through a slender window as if reluctant to leave the day behind. Two attendants glided into her chamber, their pale robes whispering against the polished floor, faces hidden in the deep curves of their hoods. One bore a silver cord that caught the last glints of twilight, the other held a strip of black cloth folded so neatly it could’ve been a silk ribbon. Lora rose from the narrow bed, heart hammering with an odd mix of resignation and curiosity, as though it already suspected the role she was expected to play.

Without a word, the first attendant wrapped the silver cord around her slender wrists, looping it twice and fastening it with a quiet click. It wasn’t tight enough to draw blood or spark real pain, merely snug enough to remind her of every moment she lacked freedom, every choice made for her. She glanced down at the gentle pressure on her skin, feeling the cool metal trace ironlike trails, and tried to w