"Get off me," I spat as a heavy hand clamped my throat.
A man shoved me back against a carved screen. His breath smelled of wine and spice. He wore the court sash of a prince; his fingers tightened like iron.
"Who are you?" he demanded. His voice had silk over steel.
"Who are you to be breaking into a woman's dressing room?" I snapped, struggling for air and kicking blindly.
He laughed. "Avery Ball," he said. "You don't get to talk to me that way."
"I know my name," I said. "I also know you're drunk and a danger to public decency."
His eyes narrowed. "You know nothing. Speak when I'm speaking."
"Speak softer," I said. "You're crushing my windpipe."
He stared at me, insulted and baffled. He moved like someone used to giving commands and seeing them obey. I moved like someone with nothing left to lose.
"Do you think you can steal from me?" he hissed. "Did someone send you?"
"Who would hire me?" I said. "The Ball family pays well, but not that well."
He smiled, and the smile made the room colder. "You're lying."
"Prove me wrong," I said, and I kicked him in the shin. He stumbled, surprised enough to lose his grip.
That was the moment I realized the body I inhabited had strength. Not mine, not from my old life. Some new muscle memory, a different balance. I pushed his hand up and twisted free, then