"Nothing is yours!" The words explode from her like cannon fire. "You own nothing! You are nothing! A burden I've carried out of charity!"
Mariselle wipes her eyes with theatrical precision. "She stole them, Mother. From Bram's estate, probably. Look how fine they are—no honest girl could afford such things."
"I didn't steal anything."
Vaelra steps closer, her voice dropping to dangerous quiet. "Tell me, Ilyra—what services do you provide in exchange for such generosity?"
Heat floods my cheeks. "How dare you?—"
"How dare I what? Ask questions about the whore living under my roof?"
The word hits like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. I stare at her, this woman who married my father for security and now stands in his house calling his daughter a whore.
"Get out." My voice comes steady despite the fire building in my chest. "Both of you. Get out of my room."
"Your room?" Vaelra's laugh turns brittle. "Your room?"
She grabs my arm with fingers like iron bands, nails digging through the thin cotton of my nightgown. "Come along, daughter dear. Time you learned exactly what you own in this house."
"Let go of me."
"Mariselle, gather those stolen goods. We're taking them outside."
"Mother, what are you?—"
"Now!"
Mariselle scrambles to collect the scattered jewelry while Vaelra drags me toward the door. I dig my heels in, but her grip tightens until I can feel bruises forming under her fingers.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Outside. Where thieves belong."
The front door opens onto cool night air that raises gooseflesh along my arms. Vaelra hauls me past the thresholdand into the small courtyard, Mariselle following with an armload of my precious things.
"Put them down there." Vaelra points to the hard-packed earth near the well. "All of them."
My jewelry hits the dirt with tiny chiming sounds, silver and sapphires mixing with dust and fallen leaves. The silk dresses follow, their fine fabric already picking up stains from the damp ground.
"There." Vaelra releases my arm with a shove that sends me stumbling. "That's where stolen goods belong. In the dirt where you found them."
"I didn't steal?—"
Her hand cracks across my cheek with enough force to snap my head sideways. Pain blooms bright and sharp, followed by the metallic taste of blood where my teeth cut the inside of my mouth.
"Liar."
I touch my burning cheek, feeling the heat radiating from the strike. "I'm not lying."
"No?" She circles me like a predator, her voice deceptively calm. "Then tell me who gave you these things. Give me a name."
I meet her gaze without wavering. "No."
The second blow comes from the other direction, harder than the first. Stars burst behind my eyelids as I stagger but manage to keep my feet.
"A name, Ilyra."
"No."