“Probably a turtledove,” the fake-me put in. By this time, even Andrien was looking convinced.
“No! I’m no thief! I’m Marina!” Tears welled up in my eyes.
“Come now, who is everyone going to believe? This common little no one or three ladies of one of the most prominent families in the South? Allow me to call my mother, or my younger sister—” Cristyne was laying it on thick. I was doomed, but when I saw Elsebeth emerging from the crowd, I thought perhaps there was some hope. Surely she would speak for me!
“My daughters would never say anything but the utmost truth,” Adelind spoke up, joining the others. She put her hands on the fake-me’s shoulders and stared into Andrien’s eyes. “This is my stepdaughter, Marina.”
I couldn’t tell if Andrien really believed her or not. He seemed to need further proof for he motioned to Elsebeth. “You,” he pointed at her. She looked up with her huge, brown, cow eyes. “Tell me the truth, girl. Which of these is the real Marina?”