Father smashed the glass and told me to get out. His voice was loud and flat. Chairs scraped. Everyone stared.
I did not move. I looked only at Daisy's wrist. The bracelet was my mother's. Small stones of blue and purple shone against her skin. She curled her hand as if to hide it.
“Give it back," I said.
“No," Father said. “You will not order your sister. Leave the table."
He raised his hand toward the maids. “Take her upstairs."
Two maids came from the doorway. They were not fighters. They were kind women who folded sheets and cleaned floors. I did not want to scare them. But I would not be dragged.
I turned my head and met their eyes. I let what was inside me rise, the cold, steady thing I had found on the cliff. It moved through me like a wind with weight. The maids stopped. They
