"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