The moment Hester saw the panic on my face, she wrenched free and raked the remaining pieces off the table. They hit the marble in a cascade of breaking glass and splintering wood.
"No money, no power, and all you can scrape together for a dowry is this junk?" She curled her lip. "You think you can intimidate me?"
"Finish the ceremony, or I'll have someone finish it for you!"
On her signal, two men grabbed the wine glass—the one the rooster had already drunk from—and forced it toward my mouth.
I shoved them back with everything I had, trembling with a rage I could barely contain.
I had grown up inside a classified government research facility. Never in my life had anyone subjected me to this kind of degradation.
Enough was enough. I raised my hand, ready to slap Hester across the face.
A voice roared from behind me.
"Touch her and see what happens!"
My fingers curled into a fist. I stopped myself. Barely.
Scott glared at me, then strode past without a second glance. He went straight to Hester, who was clutching her wrist with a wounded expression. He cradled her hand in both of his, brow furrowed, voice impossibly gentle.
"Hester, are you okay?"