CHAPTER 1

The bruise on Viola’s wrist had turned black-purple overnight, and the sleeves of her oversized sweater were the only thing keeping it hidden.

She tugged the wool down over her knuckles as she crossed the hallway of the Hierro estate, keeping her head low, letting her hair fall around her face. Stay quiet. Stay invisible. Maybe the evening would pass without blood.

“Stand up straight, Viola.” Octavia’s voice cut through the hallway, as cold and polished as the marble floor. “And for God’s sake, fix your hair. You look like you climbed out of a gutter.”