Straight ahead on the back wall was, what I assumed to be, the door to a walk in closet. I imagined I could see all manners of dresses in there waiting to be worn. Next to the door was a broad set of full length mirrors angled so that one might see their reflection from multiple angles. The room seemed perfectly arranged this way; not too full, not too roomy.

Adorning the walls were one-no, two-beautiful paintings. A great tapestry covered the back wall, warming the room. Georgette was standing by the bed, a great many things spread on the coverlet before her. I recognized them as the things I had brought with me, tucked into my knapsack. I had not brought much. There was my favorite comb, the one my father had given me, completely silver and encrusted with a few small diamonds. It was not extravagant or large, but it was my favorite just the same. There was my favorite book, the one I’d read so much in my father’s library. The one that kept me sane under the tyranny of the Wickeds—Pericles, Prince of Tyre.