The velvet box sits unopened on the table, the leather band inside promising a claim I have craved since the first time she looked at me. Sophia's hand rests at the small of my back while Lady Harrington watches from the shadows of the doorway.
Every servant knows what it means to wear her collar. I have the star-shaped scar to prove how easily I am discarded, yet the thought of her fastening it here, in front of her rival, leaves me weak with wanting. Belonging has always come at a price.
If she lifts the lid, I will lower my head. The only question is how much of my pride I will lose when the household learns what their mistress has made of me.
