We began to walk across the polished marble floor as Zoey began to talk, her voice echoing slightly in the vast entrance hall.

"This is the ancestral home of Lord Bernard, his lordship who is your father."  Zoey gestured toward the sweeping double staircase with its ornate gold banisters. 

"His estate in Emberpeak spans nearly a thousand acres. You are Lady Athene of The Bernard family, and this east wing has always been your sanctuary."  Her wrinkled hand points to a portrait of a stern-faced man with silver at his temples.

"TThe estate was constructed when his lordship was first appointed manor of Emberpeak, some thirty years past, when the cherry trees in the courtyard were mere saplings."

"And I've served here every day of those thirty years," she added, her eyes crinkling at the corners with pride.

Nina adjusted her brown dress and smiles, revealing a dimple in her left cheek. 

"I've been here a decade myself, my lady. You were just fifteen when I arrived, all gangly limbs and fierce opinions."

My fingers traced the cool stone of a nearby column as I absorbed this. These women knew the real Athene's every habit, every preference.

Learning to mimic her shouldn't be impossible for me.

"You mentioned my father is a manor of Emberpeak," I said carefully. "Is that a capital city or a province?"

Their expressions froze, exchanging a quick glance of confusion. I've clearly asked something the real Athene would know instinctively. I sounded like an investigator rather than an amnesiac noblewoman, But dear god, I can’t ask a small nonsense question. 

Zoey's eyes darted to the leaded glass windows where rain streaked the panes like tears.

"This is merely a province, my lady. The capital lies three days' journey beyond the western mountains. Your sister, Lady Isolde, once graced these halls with you, but His Lordship has commanded her presence at the royal palace."

"I have a sister?" The words felt strange on my tongue, like speaking a foreign language.

Nina's fingers twisted nervously in her apron as she exchanged a glance with Zoey. The silence between them stretched taut as a bowstring.

"Two sisters, my lady," Zoey finally whispered, her voice barely disturbing the dust motes dancing in the shaft of gray light. 

"Lady Isolde and... the late Lady Katherine. His Lordship desired one daughter to oversee these lands while the other adorned the royal court, however..." Her voice caught like fabric on a thorn.

" The late Lady..?" I prompted, leaning forward on my elbows.

Zoey's shoulders drooped beneath her starched collar. "Lady Katherine walks no more among the living."

The words fell heavy as stones. Beside her, Nina sank into a deep curtsy, her forehead nearly touching the worn carpet, as if bowing to the very memory of the dead.

Ohh.

I always wondered what it felt like to have siblings. Ever since I was born, I had been alone in my mother's house, the only set of footsteps pattering down the hallway at night. It felt good sometimes—her eyes lighted up only for me, her hands smoothed only my hair when I was sick. But growing up, I've felt a hollow ache watching the other sisters walking home together after school, their identical backpacks swinging in perfect rhythm, sharing secrets through whispers and half-sentences. They helped each other with homework at the kitchen table while I spreaded my books across the entire dining room. They had each other's shadows stretching alongside their own. 

When parents vanished like morning fog one day, siblings remained like landmarks on familiar shores. But what happened when those landmarks crumble too? I was curious about that particular emptiness... though I prayed never to chart those waters myself. Yet I believed here my other self is, drowning in it, clawing at the walls of grief with bloodied fingernails. 

Although I could understand her pain, I didn't feel myself drowning in grief. No tears pricked at my eyes. I maintained my composed yet innocent expression, knowing that false weeping would only cheapen this moment. A heavy silence stretched between us like a gossamer thread at the mention of her death. In that stillness, I found my mind wandering to the faces of my sister, Katherine — will they have mother's aquiline nose or father's deep-set eyes? I supposed I would discover that mystery soon enough.

" Now," Zoey said, her voice cutting through the thick silence like a silver knife. 

She stepped forward, her brown dress rustling against the polished floor as she gestured around us, resuming our tour.

"This chamber belongs to Lady Isolde, and the adjacent one to Lady Katherine. This entire floor is a haven for noble ladies. The reading room faces the front gardens, where you'll spend hours studying courtly etiquette and politics."     Her words floated in the air, precise and practiced.

She guided me toward the study, our footsteps muffled by thick vintage rugs in deep crimson and navy. The corridor showcases priceless antiques—a Ming dynasty vase here, a bronze statuette there—interspersed with potted orchids and trailing ivy in hand-painted ceramic vessels. Every surface gleams with beeswax polish; every corner speaks of wealth cultivated over generations. 

If a provincial manor boasts such opulence, what magnificent splendors must await at the royal palace?