"Auntie, wealth means nothing to me. One day, Cousin will understand your kindness."
My steps halted.
I spun, flung the door open. "Oh, and Mother-Sunflower Palace was mine, decreed by Father. Amy has borrowed it long enough. Time to return it."
I paced forward, voice like ice.
"And the pearl powder, the iridescent silk, the blue jade-all from my allowance, no? After a decade of 'loaning' them, I'd like them back. Fair, wouldn't you say?"
With each item named, Mother's face darkened.
Amy's lips turned ashy, but she croaked: "Fair."
I leaned in, smile sharp.
"Return them promptly. When I'm cross, I babble-wouldn't want to disturb palace nobles, hm?"
Fearing I'd spill secrets, Amy's servants fled within hours.
Alone in Sunflower Palace, I traced the familiar eaves.
The sunset gauze had faded, no longer shimmering like the memory of Father's laughter.
In the storeroom, I unearthed relics: his wooden bow, the swing he built, a birthday gift- a toy sword and military scrolls.
Once, I was the general's jewel.
He'd hoist me high, teach me sparring; Mother served melons, laughing as Joseph brandished his own stick-sword.
"Joseph, master the blade to protect your sister," Father had said.
I'd bounced: "No! I'll protect you!"
Laughter had filled the yard. When did it all curdle?
Perhaps the day the sun set like blood, the day Mother led Amy through the gates. We'd both lost fathers, but only Amy gained a family.
I stored the relics in the annex, heart heavy.
That night, dreams twisted: wolves chasing me through halls, their howls blending with Father's voice.
Dawn barely cracked when a crash jolted me.
"Lenore Smith! Show yourself!"
"You think one good deed lets you steal Amy's home? Cut off her allowance?"
"Ungrateful wretch!"
I stepped outside to carnage.
My father's relics lay destroyed: scrolls torn, the toy sword notched. Joseph stood in scarlet, sword in hand, sneering: "Trash like this belongs in the dump."
"Your 'sacrifice' means nothing. Mother wanted Zito for Amy, but you stole him! Now the Kasdorf force her into the draft-this is your debt."
My palm snapped across his cheek. The slap echoed.
Joseph gaped, stunned. I'd never struck him, but this boy-destroying Father's legacy, spitting venom-was a stranger.
When had he become this? The first time he blushed for Amy? The first time he accused me of cruelty?
"How-how dare you!" he snarled, chest heaving.
My hand rose again, faster than a wolf's strike.
This time, his cheek bore my print-and something else.
