I don’t bother finishing that sentence. There’s no excuse good enough to cover what is very obviously a desperate retreat. My skin feels hot, like my blood is boiling and if I don’t get out of here soon, each and every one of my veins will rupture. The seams of the dress dig into my skin like knives.

Alejandro rises from his chair, but Papa stops him with a hand on his arm. “Let her go, son. She simply needs a moment to herself.”

A hysterical giggle claws at my throat, but I grind my teeth to keep it inside. I don’t know what I need. It is greater than a moment to myself, far greater, but I know I will not find it here, not in that room. Not with them. They mean well, my father and brother. They do, honestly. But they will never know what it is like to navigate this world as a woman. To know society will always see you as a pawn to play, a commodity to trade. The thought makes me sick.

I stumble away from the table, knocking down my chair in my haste with these ridiculous voluminous skirts. I want to tear them off. I want to fling the silk and lace to the side and run far, far away. I want to be someone else besides who I am in this moment.

A girl trapped in a future that was written for her by someone else. A girl who is brave enough to saunter into the darkest corners of the city and fight anyone who would dare try her but isn’t brave enough to stand up to her own father.

CHAPTER 4

Ana

My emotions are a mess. It’s like I’m feeling every bad thing possible, all at the same time. Sadness. Despair. Fear. Confusion. Loss. But one emotion stands above the rest: anger. It is so thick and palpable, I feel like I’m choking on it. It’s like I’ve swallowed a mouthful of rage and it’s slowly killing me from within.

I knew this was coming. But now that it is here, I want to scream into the gilded corridors of this godforsaken villa and never ever stop. My surroundings pass me by in a blur as I make my way out of the villa through the door in the kitchens. The servants will not try to stop me. They will hold their silence just as they hold it every time they see me and Kiki sneaking in near dawn, or catch us trying to hide the dirt and blood crusting under our fingernails, or spy us sparring in the gardens when we’re supposed to learning embroidery or something equally useless.

A poisonous voice whispers through my skull. Kiki is going to marry the viceroy’s son and move into his house and leave you here.