"That's my mother's pin."
I didn't ask. I lunged, fingers finding the jeweled hairpin in Caitlin's thick braid and ripping it free.
"Hey!" Caitlin staggered back, the pin clutched between my fingers. Her painted face went white, then sour. "You petty—"
"Give it here," I said. My voice was flat. I held the pin up where everyone could see the small, familiar engraving on its back.
Annika Ferrara's laugh cut through the courtyard. "You think you're entitled? You were given away. You lost your place. That pin was part of a dowry."
"That pin is mine," I said. I turned it in my fingers so the engraving showed to the gathered faces. "Mother wore this at every fair."
A woman near the gate—Matron Heddle, always loud—threw her hand toward me. "Girl, you have no right—"
I stepped forward and slapped her palm away. Hard enough that her beads clacked. She blinked, surprised more than hurt.
"Don't touch me," I said. I didn't lower my voice.
Gasps. A few hands went to mouths. Villagers who'd been whispering their bets fell silent and watched.
Paul Takahashi pushed through the crowd, face red. "Daniela," he barked. His voice demanded order, the type that kept households from tearing themselves apart. "What is this?"
"She's stolen family jewelry and acts like it's hers," Annika said, eyes sliding to Caitlin with a smirk. "This girl makes trouble. She has no dowry, no place
