"Are you done crying yet?" I toss a sunflower seed shell into the dirt and watch it spin away. A gasp goes through the courtyard like someone lit a fuse. Kiara Mitchell, the woman who was supposed to be dead and buried in the next county, drags herself forward and slams into Emmett's arms. Her dress is torn, her hair full of riverweed, and her eyes burn with a kind of wild accusation. "Kiara?" Emmett's voice breaks. "Kiara, what—" "You left me," she says, and the words hit him harder than anyone could. "You left me to rot." The oldest aunt, voice shrill, cuts in, "Maya! You—what trick is this? You were supposed to be the bride." "Trick?" I chew another seed. "You think I'm the one who stole him? Are you all blind?" Someone snickers. A man from the market, mouth split into a grin, says, "She talks like she's rehearsing a play." "Rehearsal?" I fling the shell to the far wall and stand. "If this is a play, I'm playing the only honest part left." "Honest?" Kiara spits. "You married my intended. You smiled while I was gone." "Yes," I say. "I smiled. I had to." Aunt Hester huffs. "You had no right. She was gone—gone and presumed dead. You married him." "I married him because the family needed a daughter-in-law who could keep her head when the rumor mill wanted blood," I say, and I let my voice