"Take the purse and leave," Lady Evelyn said, gripping Juniper's wrist so her fingers prickled with cold. "You sold me," Juniper said. "I arranged what was necessary," Lady Evelyn said. "For Bram's future." "For his future?" Juniper shook her hand free. "You sold a child for a dowry." "Juniper," Bram's voice said from the stairwell. "Enough." "No," Lady Evelyn snapped. "Not now. Not in front of the staff." Juniper pressed her palm to the seam of her linen sleeve. Her voice remained small. "Show them the contract." Silence stretched long enough for a servant to clear his throat. Lady Evelyn's mouth hitched. She turned and opened a silk-lined folder to reveal a single folded sheet, stamped at the corner. She pushed it toward Juniper like a gift returned. "There," she said. "It was for the household. For alliances. For Bram's examinations. You are free to leave the estate. Here is what I owe you." Bram came down the last step and stood in the doorway. He did not move to take the paper. He did not take his mother's hand. He watched instead, unreadable. "Free?" Juniper held the folded sheet between trembling fingers. "You call sending me away freedom when I have grown under this roof? When Ivan kept me from the river? When I learned to mend your son's sleeves?" "It was a contract," Lady Evelyn said. "Signed by your father when you were ten. There was no other option for