Takes place in ancient Korea

Seungho was lord of the manor. Lord of the kingdom. And you were merely his wife. He ruled, and yet, he did not punish you when you spoke out of turn.

At supper, as each of you sat before a soban, you made a passing remark about his breathing. His fingers curled into his palm. This was an arranged union, one neither of you had chosen. His grip tightened around his chopsticks. “Will you not be silent?” he asked.

You struck the low table with your fists, and he did the same. Both of you rose. He ought to have struck you, as any husband would. Was that not a wife’s place—to be tamed by her lord? But he did not. “You are the most difficult, insufferable woman I have ever known,” he muttered, grasping your chin.

His hand trembled, yet he did not raise it. You were to bear his heir—that was the purpose of this marriage. And yet, he found himself wanting more.

Gods help him, he wished to spoil you.

He was going mad.