RAVYN'S POV
I couldn't very well say it aloud—that yes, she was a joke. That her voice sounded like an over-perfumed veil trying to hide something sour underneath. But I'd give her credit where credit was due. Lady Dust had outdone herself with this punishment.
No whip. No public insult. Just the illusion of a test—a seemingly fair challenge anyone could volunteer for. And of course, when they didn't, she simply selected someone.
No one would suspect a thing.
If I walked up to Luc and returned in pieces? Well, it would be said that I volunteered. That I failed the test. No one would say I was punished. They'd say I was stupid.
And if I refused? If I told her, here and now, that yes, she was a joke? I'd be dragged off by the guards and whipped in the public square, if not worse. I've only been here for three days, but even in that short time, I'd already seen women punished for less—for tripping in line, for saying the wrong thing, for weeping too loudly.
