The sweet, calming melody of the harp drifted across the sunlit garden, a fragile veneer of peace over a pit of vipers.
Ashlyn's sudden, bright support was a discordant note in the air, a sound more jarring to Marissa than any shout of anger.
Marissa stared at her sister, her mind racing, the polite smile on her own face feeling like a porcelain mask. Why? Why did she speak up for me? she thought, her suspicion instant and sharp as glass. This feels fake. She wants me to fail. She wants to watch me crash into the rocks, so why is she pretending to guide my ship? What is she planning?
Marissa knew she could not refuse the test. But she did not have to take it on alone. Her face relaxed into a small, grateful smile that perfectly mirrored Ashlyn's. "Thank you for your confidence, sister." She turned her gaze from Ashlyn's false, beaming face to the Dowager Duchess, her own expression a mask of perfect, thoughtful duty.
