—Mme. Jolène
“September fifth... But that’s tomorrow!”
I knew the contest would start soon, but I thought I would have a day or two to at least settle in. I still didn’t know my way around the Fashion House.
“Nervous?” Sophie asked.
“Are you?”
There. I turned the question back on her.
“No. It should be interesting. You’ll soon notice everything is very...interestinghere. You can keep the letter if you want. Otherwise, put it in the rubbish bin. I don’t need it.”
I held the letter in both hands.Miss Sophie Sterlingwas written across the top in an elaborate script that dipped and twisted across the page. I hadn’t received a welcome letter. In fact, if Sophie hadn’t shown it to me, I wouldn’t have known that there was a challenge tomorrow.
Perhaps it had been an accident, an oversight. But that seemed like too easy an explanation. Especially since everyone, from Madame Jolène to the maid, seemed to think I was a joke.
“What’s wrong?” Sophie asked, though there was no hint of sympathy or kindness in her voice.
“When did you get this letter?”
“It was on my bed when I got here a week ago.”
I searched around my pillow. Nothing. Same with the foot, where an extra gold blanket was folded into a swan. Had someone taken my letter? Or had it never been here to start with? Maybe Sophie had taken it... but then, why would she show me hers? And, if she was being honest, she didn’t have time for or interest in pettiness. I put my hand to my head, wishing I could wipe away the ache just underneath my forehead. I was being paranoid. All I needed was sleep and everything would be fine.
Still, my limbs were as rigid as the scarecrow Francesco always associated me with, and as I sat on the edge of the bed, I glanced at either side of it, hoping the letter had fallen off.
No such luck.
Chapter Five
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
I lurched upright in bed. A ray of sunlight shone brightly on the floor, streaking the light-blue marble almost white. Holding up a hand to shield my gaze, I blinked. Sophie’s bed was empty. In fact, it was neatly made, as though she’d never been there.
Groggily, I scanned the room. As I did, confusion roused my mind into wakefulness. Were my eyes playing tricks on me? Sleepiness gone, I looked around. No, things were different. Sophie’s vanity had been moved to the far side of the room, along with her chaise longue. Her wardrobe had also been nudged over by a foot and its door stood open, revealing her black and burgundy dresses. And yet my furniture was in the same configuration as yesterday.
Last night, I’d thought I’d heard scraping and pushing and had even looked up once to see Sophie’s shadowy figure moving around the room. I’d been so exhausted, though, I’d thought it was part of a bizarre dream.
“Emmaline?” A muffled voice came from the other side of the door. I kicked my feet, trying to free myself from the twistedmounds of satin blankets and tasseled pillows.
“I’m coming!”
How long had I slept? There were no clocks in the room, but the sunny quality of the light leaned dangerously toward midday. I fumbled my way across the room and opened the door.
“You aren’t dressed?” Kitty stood in the doorway. Her hair was swept up into a low bun, her dark-blue gown accessorized with a gold necklace. Her eyes widened as she took in my nightgown and hair, which I could tell was forming a bird’s nest of wisps and knots around my face.
“What time is it?”
“You aren’t ready at all? It’s time for the first challenge!”
“That’s right now?”
“Yes! A maid didn’t wake you?”
“No!” Panic, raw and sharp, shot through my chest. “What should I do?”
A maid—the snide one from the day before—was walking by, and Kitty stopped her.
