Bitter Laughter

Marcy's POV.

I stare up at Lysandra stupidly from my knees. My fingers remain clamped shut around the glittering diamond necklace in the dead silence of the room. I open my mouth to speak, to defend myself, to remind her that she explicitly ordered me to tear this place apart searching for this exact piece of jewelry. But the words die in my dry throat. Experience from living with my cruel siste