And a woman with nothing left to save is not weak.

She is free, and she is very, very dangerous.

Chapter 4 — Rosalind’s Broth

At nine the next morning my mother-in-law swept into the recovery room.

Rosalind looked at the granddaughter I had nearly died to deliver for perhaps three seconds, with a smile so perfect and so empty it belonged in a catalog.

“Oh, she’s quite pretty.

A girl is nice too,” she said.

“Camden’s explained everything, I’m sure.