occurred to her suddenly that her name was simply that, a name. In a sense, it was a badge of honor for all she’d suffered at her father’s hands. But no more did she feel shamed by it. To the contrary, she felt pride—because she had endured. Because she was unbroken still. What greater revenge could she have over her misbegotten father than to live, and to live well, to walk with pride? Who could dare pity her when her heart was filled with gladness? “I’ve decided,” she told them both, a slight smile crooking her lips, “that I like my name, after all.”
