"You think you belong here?" Princess Marissa laughed, the whip singing through the courtyard. "Stay out of the gardens, little shadow," she said, and the lash cracked the air again. I stood where I'd been told to stand and did not move. I kept my eyes on her dress. I kept my hands folded small and empty. "She stares back," Marissa crowed. "Can you look me in the face, servant?" She circled me like she was inspecting a new toy. Her smile was sharp enough for the servants to back away. "I am not a servant," I said. Silence hit the courtyard. A tray clattered. Someone sucked a breath. I heard my father's boots on stone behind me. I heard Celine's hand tighten at her side. "Bold," Marissa said. The lash stopped. She lifted her chin and let the sun gild her hair. "So bold she thinks she can speak." "Don't," Celine said under her breath. Her voice held every version of control she had taught herself. Marissa sharpened her tone. "She talks like a Maeda, does she? Same mouth, same arrogance." She drew back and struck. The first hit landed across my shoulder. The sting bloomed bright. I blinked and stayed upright. "You will learn your place," Marissa sang as if reciting a game. "We don't let shadows wear the family's colors." I tasted salt on my lips. Someone muttered, "Princess—" "Silence," Marissa snapped. "Watch." She lashed me again. The whip cut the