"Yes, Clara," I said firmly, meeting her gaze without flinching. "I expect you to dig with your bare hands. Just as I had to do countless times at your and Lady Beatrix's command."
Clara's mouth fell open. Her eyes darted desperately to my father, seeking rescue from this humiliation.
"Father!" she pleaded. "You cannot allow this!"
To everyone's surprise—mine included—my father cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. "Clara, do as Isabella says."
"But—" Clara began, her voice rising.
"Enough!" My father's fist came down on the table, making the silverware jump. "You will do as your sister commands. For once in your life, you will face consequences for your actions."
I couldn't believe my ears. My father, defending me? The man who had turned a blind eye to my suffering for years?
