She’d instructed the boy to come to the kitchens, not the main house. If she hurried right this second she might, under the pretense of collecting more water, be able to rush down to meet him. But if he was discovered at the front door not only would he be whipped for the impudence—she’d be cast out for having promised him bread.
Alizeh sat back, her heart racing at the thought.
Was this her fault? Should she have explained things more thoroughly to the boy? But what street child was deluded enough to think he might be admitted through the front door of a grand estate?
She dropped her face in her hands.
The firefly fluttered its wings against her neck, asking the obvious question.
Alizeh shook her head. “Oh, nothing,” she said softly. “Just that I’m fairly certain I’ll be thrown out onto the street... any minute now.”
At that, the firefly grew animated, taking flight and tossing its body once more at the window.
Bop. Bop.
Alizeh couldn’t help her smile then, however reluctant. “Not in a good way, you silly creature.”
“Girl!” A familiar voice barked at her.
Alizeh froze.
“Girl!”
In a flash, the firefly flew up the cuff of Alizeh’s sleeve, where it shuddered against her skin.
Alizeh turned slowly from her seat in the window bay to face Mrs. Amina, where the housekeeper somehow managed to tower over her even from below.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Who were you talking to?”
“No one, ma’am.”
“I saw your lips moving.”
“I was humming a song, ma’am.” Alizeh bit her lip. She wanted to say more—to offer up a more robust lie—but she was warier than ever of saying too much.
“Your job is to disappear,” Mrs. Amina said sharply. “You’re not allowed to hum, you’re not allowed to speak, you’re not allowed to look at anyone. You don’t exist when you work here, especially when you’re abovestairs. Do I make myself clear?”
Alizeh’s heart was racing. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Get down here.Now.”
Alizeh’s body felt suddenly heavy. She climbed down the rickety wooden ladder as if in a dream, her heartbeats growing louder as she went. She kept her eyes on the ground as she approached the housekeeper.
“Forgive me,” she said quietly, keeping her head down. “It won’t happen again.”
“I daresay it will not.”
Alizeh braced herself, waiting for what seemed the inevitable strike, when Mrs. Amina suddenly cleared her throat.
“You have a guest,” she said.
Very slowly, Alizeh looked up. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”
“You may meet him in the kitchen. You will have fifteen minutes.”
“But— Who—”
