Primrose's voice remained kind and patient. "I can ask my father to adopt you," she said kindly. "To make you part of our family In that way, you will have a second chance to live."
Even if a slave were granted freedom, their past would always haunt them, like a stain that never faded, no matter how hard they tried to scrub it away.
People judged them all the time.
They said former slaves were foolish for choosing to live on the streets instead of staying with their masters.
Others accused them of being ungrateful for walking away after being "fed" and given a roof over their heads.
'Ungrateful? My ass.'
Feeding someone and giving them a place to sleep wasn't generosity, it was the bare minimum, especially when their masters never paid them a single copper coin for their years of service.
"Your Majesty … if this is a joke …" Hazelle shook her head, slowly stepping back until there was no room left behind her. "I don't like it. It's not funny."
