"Kneel!" I shouted, blade splitting the cold air. The court froze. Snow sifted down beyond the colonnade, white and silent. A rival queen's laugh died in her mouth. A guard's spear clanged against marble and slid away. "Hold her!" someone shouted. I moved. "Stop!" the queen screamed. "She betrayed us—" I cut through the nearest guard's wrist and felt the leather give. Blood warmed my palm. I didn't stop to admire skill. I moved for the queen. "Don't—" the queen begged, voice small. Her eyes were wet with fear, not lines or strategy. She was useless. "Say my name," I demanded. "No," she breathed. A hand seized my wrist. I twisted, the blade nicking skin and silk. The guard who held me fell. I stepped forward, raised the sword. "Traitor!" the court cried in a single, ugly throat. "Traitor," I echoed. The word tasted like gravel. I swung. The world blurred, then condensed into white and heat. I hit something soft and warm. The sword clattered. The ceiling was wrong—painted flowers instead of carved dragons. Snow was a carpet of faux fur under my knees. The room smelled of shampoo and lemon detergent. I lunged up and the bed jolted. A woman on the floor stared at me. "Are you insane? What are you doing?" she yelled. I blinked and found a phone in my hand. My hand shook. I heard a voice in my head, not the court's, not the queen's