2: 2

2

The next morning, before the sky had fully lightened, Winter pushed open the door and came in to help me wash and dress.

She was the one I had picked myself from the slaver's hands when I first came back to Kingsbury, the only person in this vast Henson residence I could say a true word to.

"Miss, Blanche Pruitt has brought people to move you to the other court."

"Please come out and watch over it, in case anything gets chipped or broken."

I looked at my own pale lips and shook my head.

"No need. Whatever they do is fine."

Winter's eyes reddened.

"But Blanche says if you don't oversee it, the mistress will scold them afterward for not respecting the eldest Henson daughter..."

My hand paused for a moment as I pressed the color to my lips, and I let out a low laugh.

"Dress me, then."

Outside, tea and refreshments had been set out in the courtyard, and Blanche and a whole crowd of servants bowed to me with the utmost deference.

They carried things in and out for two full hours before it all reached Pearl Court.

I had expected to walk in and find Winifred Henson breaking things in a fit of rage, but instead it was strangely quiet.

The servants were all deference, calling me eldest daughter with every other breath as they arranged my things.

Once they had let me inspect everything with their eyes lowered, they carried in what my mother and brother had sent.

Inside two gilt-lacquered camphorwood chests were bolts of cloth and hairpins, packed to the brim.

One glance was enough to tell me these were Winifred's leftovers, the ones she hadn't wanted.

She liked heavy, ornate fabrics and lively, playful jewelry.

I dug my nails into my palm and asked Blanche.

"Where are my mother and brother?"

Blanche answered.

"The mistress is unwell and resting in her court. The young master has gone to the barracks..."

"What? Mother is ill? Has a physician been sent for?"

I turned to Winter.

"Quickly, come with me—"

Blanche said quickly, "Don't worry, eldest daughter. The mistress was only in high spirits last night. She drank chilled wine and caught a chill in the wind."

"She said moving courts must have worn you out, and that you should rest well."

With that, she hurried away.

I left Winter to keep watch at the side gate, and when I spotted my mother and brother, they were slipping quietly out of the residence.

As if drawn by something I couldn't name, I followed.

Just beyond the wall from the Henson residence, at some point a house had gone up that was nine parts identical to it.

I picked the lock on the back door with a hairpin, and the instant it opened my mind went blank.

A vast, absurd sense of it, and a sourness, spread through my whole body.

Every blade of grass, every tree, even every broken stone in this house was exactly the same as the Henson residence.

The only difference was that beneath the crabapple tree stood a solid-wood swing, wound with purple flowering vines.

Above it hung a wooden tag that read, "For Peaches only."

That handwriting was my brother's.

Two months ago, I had begged him to find a carpenter to make me a swing, nothing fancy, just something plain and simple.

But he had frowned.

"Amy, you'll be having your coming-of-age ceremony in a few months. You can't keep playing like a little girl. You should carry yourself with dignity, stay in your room, read, do your embroidery."

Yet Winifred was clearly two months older than me, and he had not only agreed for her, he had made it with his own hands.

When I reached "Pearl Court," its door was hung all over with wooden dolls of every kind, each of them lifelike.

I took out the meeting gift Clive Gilbert had given me the day I returned home, a tiny little doll.

In the years before I was lost, I had spent whole days trailing after him, calling out that I wanted to marry him.

My mother and his mother had been close friends in their girlhood, and they had arranged our betrothal long ago.

They said that in all the years I was gone, he came to the residence nearly every day to ask whether I had come home yet.

In the half year since my return, he was always making little trinkets to amuse me, the kind you'd give a child.

But it was this doll I loved most, and I carried it with me every day.

Footsteps sounded all at once, and I quickly ducked behind a corridor pillar, only to see Clive Gilbert walking at Winifred's side.

"Peaches, come look, this is a doll I carved for you, half a year of work!"

I fixed my eyes on it, and that doll was no different from mine at all.

Only this one had been painted, sanded smooth and round.

Winifred tilted her head back and said in a sweet, coaxing voice, "Clive, this is the three hundredth wood carving you've made for me. There's no room left in my rooms for them!"

Clive laughed and tapped the tip of her nose.

"My dear Peaches, this one is different. I carved three of them and pricked my fingers, and this is the one I'm happiest with."

It was as though a hole had been torn in my heart, cold wind howling in through it, the ache stinging up into my eyes.

My hand trembled, and the doll rolled to the ground.

Clive's voice was gentle, his brow drawn tight, and he stepped quickly forward, met my red-rimmed eyes, and a flicker of shock crossed his face.

"Amy, why are you here?"

3: 3

3

"Then what are you doing here?"

I forced down the sob in my throat, my eyes fixed on the doll in Winifred's hands.

Clive's face went taut, and almost by instinct he stepped sideways, blocking my line of sight completely.

"Amy Henson, what are you trying to do?"

"Whatever's between you and me, leave Winnie out of it!"

Winifred came forward and tugged at his sleeve, her eyes filming over with tears.

"Clive, don't speak to my sister like that."

She managed a small smile in my direction.

"If you like the doll, sister, I can give it to you…"

Before she finished, she was already tipping backward.

My hand shot out on instinct, and in the same moment my mother's and brother's voices came down on me.

"Amy Henson! What are you doing?"

Valentine rushed over in a few strides, shoved me hard aside, and caught Winifred, steadying her.

I stumbled, and before I could find my footing a slap exploded across my face.

Pain tore straight up into my skull, and my ears rang.

Vanessa's eyes were dark, fixed on me without mercy.

"How could I have given birth to a daughter with a heart as vicious as yours?"

"Everything you asked for, I gave you. What more could you possibly want?"

Her chest heaved.

"And you dared to follow us? You, a trueborn daughter of the Henson family, do you have a shred of breeding in you?"

I swallowed the iron taste in my mouth, slowly turned my head straight, and looked at the three of them shielding Winifred behind their backs. A low laugh slipped out of me.

"I have no breeding?"

"And Winifred does?"

"A young lady of the house, this close in secret with her sister's betrothed. Is that the breeding you're talking about?"

"Winnie and I signed a betrothal contract. Don't stand there spouting lies!"

Clive shot back, his voice sharp with urgency.

My whole body went rigid, as if someone had dumped a basin of ice water over my head.

"What did you say?

Valentine, seeing there was no hiding it now, drew his brows together and looked at me with disappointment written all over his face.

"The truth is, your betrothal to young Mr. Gilbert was broken off long ago. The one he's marrying at year's end is Winnie."

"After you came back, Winnie was afraid you'd be married off elsewhere and mistreated, so she offered to become young Mr. Gilbert's concubine instead."

"And this is how you repay her? Slandering her good name just to ruin her!"

My body shook and would not stop. I looked at my mother and asked hoarsely,

"This… this was your decision, wasn't it?"

"It was. What of it?"

She looked down at me, utterly unshaken.

"You were born of me. Marriage is decided by a parent's word and a matchmaker's arrangement!"

"Your marriage is mine to decide!"

I dug my nails hard into my palm, holding back the tears.

"If I was born of you, then why so cold-hearted?"

"A trueborn Henson daughter and an adopted daughter serving one husband, and me as the concubine at that. Aren't you afraid Father will come to you in your dreams?"

"Hold your tongue!"

Her frame swayed hard, and her hand flew up again, only to stop in midair when she saw the stubbornness in my eyes.

"What right do you have to speak of your father?"

"If it weren't for searching for you, he'd never have caught that plague and died on the road!"

My heart felt run through by a thousand arrows, the pain stealing my breath, and in the end the tears fell.

"Father searched for me because he loved me, because he missed me."

"And you, Mother?"

"You hate me this much, and you've already found a new daughter to replace me. So why did you take me back at all?"

My insides felt torn to shreds, cold sweat soaking through my underclothes.

I drew a deep breath, wanting to ask, before I died, every doubt I had buried in my heart.

Winifred rushed over and knelt at my feet, pleading bitterly.

"Sister, I beg you, don't speak to Mother this way."

"You're her daughter. How could she not love you?"

"I'm willing to leave the Henson residence, to sever all ties with Mother and Valentine, to break off the betrothal with Clive. Just please stop wounding Mother's heart!"

Then her body convulsed all at once, and she crumpled limply to the ground.

"Winnie!"

Clive swept her up into his arms and glared at me with loathing.

"Are you satisfied now?"

"You knew perfectly well Winnie suffers from fits, and still you had to provoke her!"

"Since you want so badly not to be mine, in a few days I'll come to break the betrothal. Let's see who'll dare want you after that!"

Valentine turned to fetch a physician, while Vanessa gave her orders to the old matron at her side.

"The eldest daughter has no regard for her elders and does nothing but quarrel with her sister!"

"Twenty strokes to the palms. Kneel in the ancestral hall three days, no food!"

Winter, who had been hiding behind the rockery all this time, dashed out and put herself in front of me, shaking her head, her voice breaking.

"My lady, you mustn't!"

"The young mistress is frail. This will take her life!"

"Frail?"

Vanessa gave a cold laugh.

"You're just like your mistress, lying comes as easy as breathing to you both!"

"A moment ago she had breath enough to stand there and defy me. Now a trifling little punishment will take her life?"

Her gaze settled on Winter.

"In that case, how about I take your life first?"

Winter's teeth chattered, but she did not move an inch.

I gripped her hand, smiled, and shook my head at her.

Then I looked at my mother.

"I accept the punishment."

"There's no need to waste any more of your time on me."

Inside the ancestral hall.

The candle flames wavered, the cushion had been taken away, and I knelt on the cold ground, shaking all over.

The bamboo strips they'd struck my palms with were furred with tiny splinters that drove into the flesh, the pain beyond bearing.

On the second night my fever spiked, my whole body burning.

I curled into the corner and held myself tight.

In my daze I saw my mother, my father, and my brother.

Vanessa sat beneath the crabapple tree, head bent, mending my doll with careful stitches, her face gentle, glancing up now and then to tell me to slow down.

The scene shifted. Father sent a kite up into the clouds while my brother took my hand and led me slowly forward.

Then thick smoke and a wave of heat rushed at my face, and the altar table collapsed.

Beyond the door people surged and cried out in alarm.

"Someone, come! The ancestral hall's on fire!"

I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes, and waited quietly for the flames to reach me.

4: 4

4

When my eyes finally dragged open, I was lying on the bed, my head splitting.

The door pushed inward. It was Summer, Winter's younger sister.

The girl carried a cup of tea, and the moment she saw me awake, her eyes went red.

"Miss, you're awake!"

My throat was parched. I asked in a low voice.

"Why is it you? Where's Winter?"

She was trembling all over, tears the size of beans dropping down, stammering a long while before she got the truth out.

"Last night the ancestral hall caught fire. My sister was so worried about you she rushed to the mistress's courtyard to beg for help, and she knocked over Miss Winifred's medicinal broth by accident..."

"She was... she was caught by the mistress on the spot, and beaten to death!"

Something sweet rose in my throat, and a mouthful of fresh blood sprayed out.

Summer screamed.

"Miss!"

I let her wipe it away for me, tears sliding down to my temple.

I had already written her release from bondage. Today I meant to hand Winter back her indenture papers.

After that, north or south, the two sisters could go wherever they pleased.

But now she was dead. Because of me.

Summer gripped my hand, her voice raw.

"Miss, don't fall asleep, I'll go call the physician right now..."

"Stop pretending!"

My mother walked in, her expression indifferent, and gave me one cold glance.

"The house physician already said there's nothing wrong with you."

"I underestimated you. To get yourself out, you actually dared to set the ancestral hall on fire!"

I signaled Summer to leave, forced myself up to sit on the bed, and gave a bitter little laugh.

"So has the mistress come here this time meaning to beat me to death too, to atone to the Henson ancestors?"

At the word "mistress," she froze, then laughed from sheer fury.

"Fine. For the sake of one worthless servant, you won't even call me Mother anymore!"

"So be it! Better you don't, so Winnie doesn't have to feel hurt!"

Her gaze bored straight into mine.

"Two days from now is Winnie's coming-of-age ceremony, and the day the Gilbert family comes to present the betrothal gifts."

"When the time comes, all you need to do is say your heart has long belonged to someone else, and let the two of them be together."

"If you don't do it, I'll throw that worthless servant's body onto the mass grave to feed the dogs!"

My head snapped up, my eyes full of disbelief, my fingertips clenched white.

In the end, I nodded.

"Fine. I'll do it."

...

Two days later, the residence gates stood wide open, guests streaming in one after another.

The coming-of-age ceremony was about to begin, yet there was still no sign of Amy Henson.

Vanessa Mason was on the verge of an outburst when she saw Blanche Pruitt come stumbling over, the color drained from her face, murmuring low at her ear.

"Madam, something's wrong!"

"The eldest daughter... she's dying!"