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I don’t have a chance to respond, because he slams the gavel down, standing up. Instead, I nod profusely, because he’s already walking out the door. Damn, he was seriously in a hurry.

“Have a good life, Silla,” mutters my lawyer, as the bailiff pulls out handcuffs. My heart starts to pound as this becomes very real. “Maybe next time, you’ll keep your mouth shut when you’re told to. You’re going to find there were no good choices today.”

My breath stutters as I look over at her. “Wait, what do you mean?” I cry, pulling away slightly from the bailiff as he grabs my arm to put the cuffs on.

“There’s no need for histrionics,” he mutters, yanking me so hard my hips hit the table hard.

As I grunt, the lawyer chuckles. “Never you mind, girlie,” she mutters. Deciding that her job is done, she juts her chin at me as she takes her leave.

The cuff is cold, hard, and pinches my wrist as the bailiff closes it tightly. Hissing, my eyes widen as I look at him. He merely closes the last cuff even tighter. Can I lose my wrists from lack of circulation?

“Walk. Don’t make me push or pull you. There’s no one here to make me behave,” he grunts.

My feet immediately move faster, because the courtroom cleared out incredibly quickly.

“That’s it,” he mutters, as we walk out a side door together.

The corridor is dimly lit, and my stomach starts to hurt. I’m a little worried about having a panic attack or puking, except I haven’t eaten at all today. The police station let me shower and dress in their bathroom, but didn’t feed me. I’m going to be happy that I am clean, and that I have nothing in my stomach to eject.

Just call me Pollyanna today, because worrying that the worst is about to happen to me isn’t helpful.

My hands are cramping from how tightly I’m fisting them, as if I can keep all of my emotions in check this way. The bailiff, whose name I think is Barnes, gives me the side eye several times, as if waiting for me to break down.

I keep my eyes firmly in front of me, so he can’t see the panic in them. My lips are set tightly together, refusing to release the keening sound that wants to begin. No, if I let any of that out, I won’t be able to stop.

Pushing open the door, there’s a windowless room waiting for us. Shoving me into an ugly padded orange chair, he yanks my arms over my head, attaching it to a hook. I don’t know where he thinks I would go otherwise.

This is seriously overkill.

“Someone will be by to collect you when the van arrives,” Barnes mutters. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

I wouldn’t dream of it.

Again, every word I want to say in a snarky tone is kept back as my eyes look away from him and his electrified wand, keeping me mute.

“I hope you continue to be this submissive at the camp,” he snickers, walking away.

And that’s what people misunderstand about me. I am not at all submissive. This is just the only way I’m able to survive, and keep my secrets. I’m also kind of awkward. Living my life with a nose in a book or coding will do that to a girl.

My eyes rise for a moment, cataloging everything in the room with me. I was in night court, and the wall clock across from me says it’s currently ten o’clock. It makes sense why everyone was in a hurry to get out of here. I spend forever waiting for my turn, and now it all feels anticlimactic.

I was in such a hurry to have my hearing, sure that the judge would rule in my favor. Instead, the odds were stacked against me between my mouth and the supposed evidence. I say this, because it’s hard to be a prostitute when you’re a virgin.

Taking a deep breath, unsure if there are cameras in here, I try to get comfortable in the chair. Unfortunately, it’s difficult with my arms in such an awkward position. Closing my eyes, I try to zone out, and pretend I’m anywhere else.

I have no idea what’s next, or where this camp is, and—

Digging my nails into my palms, focusing on the pain between this and my wrists, helps keep me from going down the rabbit hole of things I can’t control. I’ve heard nightmarish things about the prison system that Cinder and her husband, Aaron, have created.

I didn’t think we had a lot of crime in Forbach, but something tells me that my step-sister uncovered some things about our kingdom that I don’t know about. Petty crimes now receive harsher punishment, money laundering schemes are rampant, and I’ve been reading more murder schemes being investigated.

It makes sense when I think about how my mother killed my step-father for his money that Cinder would push for these to become a priority. Money makes people do crazy things. I was too young to understand that the tea I was serving him was laced with something, but she’s never forgiven me.

Oddly enough, I can’t seem to forgive myself either. She lost everything when he died, and my mother treated her like dirt. I should have fought harder for Cinder, but instead never apologized for my mother’s actions. I’m not surprised she turned to reform of our laws once she became queen.

Ironically, my mother praises her new queen, and Cinder has never tried to prove that her step-mother killed her father. But…I guess I did that instead, since I delivered the tea.

Just a sea of wrongs I committed unknowingly as a child because my mother asked me to.