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My insides twist into knots. She’s not family; neither of us bound by a wisp of the emotion that gives that bond its meaning. I harden myself, since persuasion isn’t working. “If you don’t return my ring, I’ll expose your thievery tonight. I’ll report you to the soldiers.”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“I’d dare anything. How do you think I got here? What do you think the punishment will be for stealing from the prince’s guests?” I don’t want to do this; it would risk me too, but it’s enough that she believes me.

Her eyes glint with calculation. For the first time, she’s sizing me up as an equal, a foe. I’m no longer a child to bully but an adversary—one who if pushed too far, will shove right back. Her fingers shake as she unties her pouch, rummaging through it to pull out my ring. In her grasp, the band appears like rough wood—the shining stalk withered, the petals so thin they can barely be seen—like a cheap imitation of itself. Relief surges as I pluck it from her, eager to wear it to banish this sense of loss. But I hesitate, recalling how the ring glowed when on my finger. I can’t risk drawing attention to it. Any association with magic is to be feared here, avoided at all costs.

I tuck the ring into my old handkerchief, folding it among the silver. As I turn to leave, Mistress Henglan steps into my path. She hates losing; she hates me. “Where did you steal the silver from?”

“I earned it.” I want to go, but she’s blocking me. “Why do you care when you have a hundred times more in your pouch?”

“Look at you,” she seethes. “Disobedient and rude. You never talked back like this before, you never wanted to leave home or hide your earnings. I was right; the carp was evil. I’m glad I killed it.”

Fury chokes me, wretched and bitter. “The only evil in my life is you. I only stayed this long because I had no choice; you were my only family.”

Dangerous words, yet I can’t repress them. Whether anger makes you stupid or wise, it’s honest, forcing you to stop pretending everything is all right when it’s not. I tell myself some bonds are better broken; those that cage you, leeching your strength like rot.

Mistress Henglan digs in her pouch again, pulling out a red jade bangle engraved with swallows and apricots. Before I can back away, she seizes me, forcing the bangle over my wrist.

“Go then,” she snarls, flinging my hand away. “But you’ll learn just how hard life can be without me.”

I yank at the bangle but it’s wedged tight, my hands slippery with sweat. As I struggle, Mistress Henglan points at me and shouts, “Thief ! Lady Wang, she stole your bangle!”

I freeze, stricken with horror—Mistress Henglan already hurrying toward the entrance. I try to follow her, but soldiers close around me, their expressions grim. Mistress Henglan’s lie is a good one that fits roughly, if you don’t look too hard.

An angular woman in purple silk marches to me, pointing at the bangle, the thick iron hoops in her ears quivering. “How dare you steal our family heirloom!”

“I didn’t.” The tremor in my voice marks it with guilt; I’m too shaken. A twist of fate that despite my past, I’ve been caught by innocence.

More cries ring out across the hall: “My purse is missing!” “My jade necklace!”

“She’s the thief !” I point in the direction Mistress Henglan fled, but she’s gone. More soldiers surround me, the guests turning to stare. One guard searches me roughly, pulling out my pouch. At the sight of the herbs, she tosses it back to me—then unearths my handkerchief from my sash, the one wrapped around my silver and ring. I try to grab it back but another guard seizes my arm, hauling me toward the dais, Lady Wang stalking furiously behind us.

The prince sits on the throne, his mouth set in a stern line. “Who caused the disturbance?” he asks.

A man steps forward, one with a broad nose and pointed chin, wearing a purple robe and a black hat set with an iron disc—that several here wear like a mark of their position or rank. “Your Highness, Lady Wang claims her jade bangle was stolen by this girl. Several guests have also reported their possessions are missing.”

“I didn’t take them.” My denial comes too fast. “The thief took my ring. When I tried to retrieve it, she shoved the bracelet onto me—a distraction, so she could escape.”

“A generous thief,” Lady Wang says derisively as she sinks to a low bow before the prince. “Your Highness, I served your late mother as one of her favored companions. I ask for justice, for this thief to be punished for stealing our precious heirloom and insulting the dignity of our family.”

Prince Zixin’s eyes flick to me, widening briefly as though in recognition. My insides shrivel, part of me wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. I wanted to meet the prince, but not this way. And if he saw me steal the invitation outside, he’ll know I am a thief.

“How do you answer these charges?” he asks at last.

I bow to him, even lower than Lady Wang did. “I stole nothing here. Any thief would have more sense than to flaunt their spoils this way. Would someone steal the crown and wear it to an audience with Your Highness?”

“A fair point.” It is Princess Chunlei who speaks from where she sits, close to the dais. “This is more intriguing than the usual entertainment, Brother. Will we have a beheading or the customary banishment to the mines?”

She might be trying to lighten the mood, but I can’t laugh when it’s my fate in their hands, when they can command this with a single word.

“As Her Highness knows, I only arrived a short while ago—yet a great number of items are claimed to be stolen. I’m as much a victim as you are, Lady Wang.”

“Why would the girl steal anything?” Princess Chunlei rises and walks toward me, gesturing at my shoes. “Brother, you might not know the cost of such things, but those shoes are worth a dozen jade bangles.”

As a few guests around us nod, I breathe easier. Even if they’re just trying to secure the princess’s favor, their support helps.

Lady Wang’s mouth shrivels until it looks like a dried plum. “How did you get those shoes?”