My pulse thrummed as I took my first step forward.
A young woman appeared, hurrying toward me in a swish of layered skirts. She wore a tightly laced corset over a long-sleeved striped blouse, a light-blue skirt with a bustle in the back, and a glossy striped scarf over her shoulders. Her breath came quickly as if she had rushed to find me.
She stopped before me, dipped into a curtsy, and asked, “Parli italiano?”
“Sì, lo parlo bene,” I said in a rush, grateful for the familiarity of the language.
Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Oh, good,” she said in Italian, pressing a hand to her chest. “The Master told me you only spoke English, which I’m afraid I do not.”
“Where am I?” I asked, scanning the hallway once more, trying to piece together the fragments of my last memory.
Her brow furrowed. “You are in the Master’s home, of course.”
A flicker of hope ignited in my chest. Could the Master be Malik?
“Is my sister Emily here?” I asked carefully.
Her expression darkened, and she lowered her gaze. “Poor Emily is so ill. She can’t keep anything down.”
A strange chill swept through me. “Can you take me to her?”
The maid hesitated, her gaze sweeping over me with mild disapproval. “Where is your dressing gown? You cannot wander the corridors like that. What if the Master were to see you in such a state?”
The Master—if it were Malik—had seen me in far less than a nightgown. But I had no desire to upset the household’s customs.
I gave her a slight nod. “Then show me to my armoire. I will dress properly.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she turned and gestured for me to follow. “This way, Signora.”
The maid curtsied again, adding, “My name is Giulia, by the way.”
“Olivia,” I said, pressing a hand to my sternum.
“I know,” Giulia murmured as she scurried ahead.
She already knew?
I followed her to an armoire, its doors opening to reveal an array of dresses and dressing gowns, all appearing to be my size. Hesitating only briefly, I selected a pale gray dress and changed quickly.
Giulia then led me to Emily’s room.
My sweet sister lay in bed, hunched over a pan of sick. She looked up weakly, her greenish pallor making my stomach turn.
“Oh, God, Olivia. This is awful.”
“I’m so sorry, Emily.” I crossed the room, sinking onto the mattress beside her, smoothing her tangled hair away from her clammy forehead. “Please get her a clean pan,” I told Giulia, who hovered nearby.
She nodded, picked up the soiled pot, and hurried away.
I let out a breath. “I had the most disorienting experience. I woke up in a strange bedroom without remembering how I got there.”
Emily groaned. “You’re lucky. I was conscious of my heaving stomach the entire time.”
Before I could respond, footsteps sounded in the hallway. A polite knock followed.
Then, the door swung open, and Malik entered, hand in hand with Rosie.
“’Livia!” Rosie cried in delight. “Emily! Malik gave me new, pretty dresses!”
