EMBER’S POV
I reach deep into my mind, past Knox, past Gale, past a great many memories, and I find something that brings a familiar ache back to my chest. I force my voice to remain steady when I speak.
“I wager a grey afternoon with clouds gathered, and rain on the hot pavement. I was ten years old in a blue dress. The first time I’d ever worn a dress that pretty.”
The scale glows bright, but does not move yet.
Across the table, my mother watches it carefully, and I can see her doing the math she’s done her whole life, weighing what my truth is worth against what it costs her to bury it.
Her chin comes up.
She’s going to block me.
“I wager my first designer dress,” my mother says, her voice hard and defensive. “The exact moment I put it on in the dressing room, and felt more ali
