Reaching down, she released the magic binding my feet so my shoes could be removed, leaving my legs dangling loose. Tapping one pointed heel against my chin, she said, “Treacherous things. Such a shame that your vanity will be your undoing.”

Discarding one shoe halfway up the steps, she punched the heel of the other through the hem of my skirt. Then she made her way to the top, towing me along behind. “We’ll want to get this right,” she said. “So we’ll practice a few times.”

A shriek tore from my throat as she whipped me down the stairs, end over end, the steps brushing against my cheeks until I came to rest on the floor, magic splaying my legs apart, my skirts up around my waist. Then I was flying up them again.

“Dramatic, but not quite right. Let’s try something else.”

She threw me down again, my hair slapping the staircase as I flipped. Then my body jerked to a stop, the line of my neck pressed against the icy marble of a step.

“We’ll break your neck first,” she said. “Then smash your skull.” My body turned, my forehead resting on the stone. “Then break a few ribs.” I flipped and rotated down the rest of the steps, my skirts now sodden with urine as I came to a crumpled rest at the bottom, my face soaked with tears.

“Just like that. Enough practice. I think we’re ready.”

Last chance. Only chance.

I sobbed as she lifted me up to the top, cringing as she turned me to face her, brushing the hair from my face. “Last words, my lady?”

I slammed my knee into her stomach.

She doubled over, and I kicked her in the face, feeling her control over my own magic loosen. Lessa shrieked and pressed a hand to her broken nose, eyes streaming tears, and I took advantage, slicing through the power binding me. I landed hard on my feet, barely keeping my balance on the edge of the stairs.

“Bitch,” she howled, and I shoved her hard before turning to run.

I sprinted down the hall toward my father’s rooms. Heat roiled after me, and I dived onto my stomach, pressing my face against the carpet as silvery fire filled the air above me, igniting the wallpaper and artwork. Smoke billowed in all directions, and I held my breath, crawling on hands and knees until I was in the room, kicking the heavy door shut behind me.

The lock clicked into place, but it would only buy me seconds, the heavy wood no match for a troll of Lessa’s strength. I could feel her coming down the hall, feel the weight of her magic surging ahead of her.

And I was trapped.

I knocked a bookcase in front of the door, using my magic to shove a heavy table next to it, for all the good it would do.

“Quit making a mess, Pénélope.” Lessa’s voice drifted through the walls, lilting and singsong. “You know I’ll have to clean it up.”