Chapter 47 To What End?

• Day after day, I go through the gruelling routine of scrubbing my skin until it is nearly raw, bathing in near scalding water and having milk dunked over my head, having the lacing of my bodice pulled until I can no longer breath, and my hair nearly pulled from my head in a bid to have it styled outrageously.
• A hiss of exasperation escapes me as a rogue pin pricks my finger, and I pull out the wretched object from my hair, hurling it across the hall.
• The room erupts in an abrupt silence as the pin finds its mark, clattering against the marble floor. A collective hush falls upon the gathering, every eye riveted to the rebellious object, as if it were a harbinger of upheaval.