"Don't marry him," I snapped as Father ushered the thin, nervous groom into the Main Hall. Everyone froze like someone had stopped the music. Ezra Best blinked at me, fingers twisting the edge of his sleeve. Father cleared his throat and smiled the small smile he had saved for bargains. "Katelyn," he said, voice oily, "this is a wedding. Be polite." "Polite?" I said. "You think polite will stop you from handing Ezra to Alicia in secret?" Alicia flitted forward in a dress that smelled of lilies and entitlement. "Katelyn," she said, sweet and sharp, "you embarrass Father again." "Embarrass?" I repeated. "You have been smiling at Ezra for a month and pretending not to. Father, are you awarding my husband to my sister before the ink dries?" The servants had stopped their murmurs. The steward's face flushed. Ezra swallowed and attempted a vow, words trembling out of him. "I, Ezra Best, take Katelyn Zeng—" "Stop," I said. "Sign the dowry first." Father's smile died. "Dowry? We agreed—" "Agreed with whom? With your eye on Alicia? With Joyce whispering in your ear?" My voice cut through the hall. "If Ezra marries me without the manors written in my name, then he marries for warm bread and a bed, and I will be a ghost in my own house." A ripple of shocked laughter ran through the guests. My mother clutched her handkerchief and leaned forward. Alicia's color tightened. "You're bargaining at your own wedding," Mother