"Hold still—I'll finish what your mother started," Grace hissed, blade poised above my cheek. I opened my eyes slowly. The parlor was too bright. Grace's hand shook so badly the steel flashed. Only the hush of servants filled the room, and Avery's face was a mask of satisfaction. "Try," I said. Grace froze. Everyone froze. "You want my face?" I leaned forward. My voice was low and steady. "Try." Avery's smile tightened. "Estelle—" "Do you think the guests won't see this?" I said. "Do you think Father will let you ruin the house for a whim?" Grace spat. "You're lying. You always lie." "Am I?" I reached and caught her wrist. My fingers were small and sure. The blade dipped. I did not scream. I did not flinch. "Let her go!" Avery snapped. The blade clattered to the floor when I twisted Grace's hand and made the weapon slip out. It hit the rugs with a single clear sound. A maid gasped. Ines—tiny and pale, stuck by the door—moved forward so quick she nearly fell. "Estelle!" Grace tried to wrench her hand back. Her knuckles were white. She looked like a child about to be punished. I didn't release her. I sat up fully. I put my hand on her wrist and forced her palm up so everyone could see blood there—faint, from where she'd snapped her own skin on the brace of the blade. "You cut