Page 8
Bits of last night rushed back: bright light, shoving Ivy and Nora, Ivy screaming my name, her hand reaching for mine, my fingers closing on empty air.
“Ivy! Nora!”
Two more doors sat on the left, so I tried those. One opened into an enormous walk-in wardrobe filled with dresses but no people. The other was an equally fancy bathroom, also empty.
Then I noticed the wall of windows and rushed to the nearest one. I pulled aside the linen curtain and nearly fell to my knees.
Miles of sand stretched towards the horizon beneath a brilliant blue sky. Huge dunes rose beyond a city of pale stone buildings, their terraces and flat rooftops packed closely together below the window.
Did we fly to Morocco?
I found the latch and pushed the window open. Hot air hit my face, but thick iron bars covered the opening. I pulled at one until my palms hurt, but it wouldn’t budge.
My credit card limit would never cover this place.
My hands shook as I turned and took a proper look at the room.
Everything about it screamed wealth, but the bright colours through the open wardrobe door caught my attention. I went back inside and looked at the clothes this time, instead of searching for people.
Dozens of long dresses hung there, all silk and intricate embroidery, so elaborate they looked more like costumes than everyday clothes. I pulled one from its hanger with trembling hands and held it against my body. It looked like it would fit me. Even the length seemed right, and I put it back so quickly that it hung crooked.
Then I turned to the wall of shoes. Shelves covered the whole thing, filled with more pairs than I could count. There was even a little ladder attached to a rail, with wheels along the bottom, just like the one at our village library that Nora used to slide back and forth on whenever she thought nobody was looking.
I carefully picked up an embroidered slipper, almost expecting it to bite me, and placed it on the floor. I stared at it, then finally worked up the courage to slip my foot inside.
It fitted perfectly, and I kicked it off so quickly that it flew across the room and hit the mirror above a dressing table. Jewellery and elaborate hair combs covered the table, surrounded by little jars and bottles.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I turned around, and the room turned with me.
Elowen!
Ivy, stay there!
Elowen!
My stomach lurched, and I barely made it to the bathroom next door before lifting the toilet seat and being sick.
Oh my God. I’ve been trafficked, haven’t I?
The thought made me sick again. That’s why I feel like this. That’s why I was seeing things last night. They drugged me!
A lock turned outside the bedroom, and I shot to my feet. I ran out of the bathroom so fast that I nearly tripped over my remaining flip-flop.
A young woman entered carrying a tray. She managed two steps before noticing me beside the dressing table and stopping. She wore a long, pale-blue dress with an apron tied around her waist, her dark hair pinned neatly away from her face. The cups on her tray rattled against their saucers.
“My lady?”
She looked me up and down, frowning when she reached my bare legs and the single flip-flop.
“Where am I?”
She blinked, so I tried again. “Where are my sisters? Ivy and Nora.”
“My lady, I—”
“Were they brought here too? The two other girls who were with me?”
She stared at me.
