“Cordelia, this is Bianca,” he said, as if a polite introduction were the thing this moment required.

I came down another step.

Bianca started toward me holding a hot plate of breakfast, and then — before I was anywhere near her, before I had so much as raised a hand — she dropped.

She let herself fall to the hardwood in a graceful, practiced collapse, the plate clattering, food flung across the floor.

Spencer lunged to haul her up.

“Cordelia!