The other children at school had been envious when she told them how little she’d been expected to do, but expectations had been low because no one had believed she was capable of anything. Here, she worked tirelessly every day, made her own clothes, and slept on a bed that was only marginally softer than a stone slab—and sometimes she slept on the slab, when the sky was clear of clouds and no lightning loomed—and she was happy, because she was finally allowed to decide who she was and what that meant.
