They laughed as my forehead split open. "She jumped? What a fool!" a woman called, delighted. Pain hit sharp, hot, immediate. I opened my eyes to silk and lacquer, to a bridal canopy too splendid for someone from the south side. A taste of iron in my mouth told me the rest without words. "Baili Feng," I said before I checked my tongue. The name left my lips like a blade. "No," Wan'er whispered. "Miss Mu, don't speak." I forced a smile that looked empty and meek. Su Jiulu's voice, not mine, threaded through my thinking. Names, dates, faces—like grain spilled into my hands. I held them up and made choices. "Who did this to you?" another voice demanded. It was Lu Yuer, the favored concubine, dressed in green that matched the stitched envy in her eyes. "She fell," I said, slow and simple. "I always fall." Laughter circled the room. Someone clapped. A hand came forward to pat my shoulder and decide my limits. "Look, the poor thing still plays the fool," Lu Yuer said. "The bride of the Regent's house acts the village idiot. How quaint." I let my face go smaller, like porcelain cooled in water. That tiny deception had kept me safe once, and I let it breathe for a beat. "She smiles like she doesn't know her name," Lu Yuer continued. "Do you feel silly, Mu Jiuyou? Do you remember the herbs you used to muddle?" "Not herbs," I