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The house came into view, beautiful and expansive with white stonesand large windows, the style ornate and elegant, reminiscent of a Parisian manor. A gilded iron fence caged us in, obscuring views of the neighborhood. When I was little, I used to hoist myself up to the top bar of the gate, hoping for a glimpse of the ocean. It remained forever out of sight, and I had to content myself with exploring the gardens.

But the letter might change everything.

Yes or no. Was I staying or leaving? Every step I took toward the house might be one step closer to a different country. Another world.

A seat at the table with my parents.

“There you are,” Tía Lorena said from the patio door. Amaranta stood next to her, a thick, leather-bound tome in one hand.The Odyssey.An intriguing choice. If I recalled correctly, the last classic she tried to read had bitten her finger. Blood had stained the pages and the magic-touched book escaped out the window, never to be seen again. Though sometimes I still heard yips and growls coming from the sunflower beds.

My cousin’s mint-green gown ruffled in the warm breeze, but even so, not a single hair dared to escape her pulled-back hairstyle. She was everything my mother wanted me to be. Her dark eyes stole over mine, and her lips twitched in disapproval when she took in my stained fingers. Charcoal pencils always left their mark, like soot.

“Reading again?” Elvira asked her sister.

Amaranta’s attention flickered to Elvira, and her expression softened. She reached forward and linked arms with her. “It’s a fascinating tale; I wish you would have stayed with me. I would have read my favorite parts to you.”

She never used that sweet tone with me.

“Where have you been? Never mind,” Tía Lorena said as I began to answer. “Your dress is dirty, did you know?”

The yellow linen bore wrinkles and frightful stains, but it was one of my favorites. The design allowed me to dress without the help of a maid. I’d secretly ordered several garments with buttons easy to access, which Tía Lorena detested. She thought it made the gowns scandalous. My poor aunt tried her hardest to keep me looking presentable but unfortunately for her, I had a singular ability to ruin hemlines and crush ruffles. I did love my dresses, but did they have to be so delicate?

I noticed her empty hands and smothered a flare of impatience. “I was in the garden.”

Elvira tightened her hold on my arm with her free one, and rushed to my defense. “She was practicing her art, Mamá, that’s all.”

My aunt and Elvira loved my illustrations (Amaranta said they were too juvenile), and always made sure I had enough supplies to paint and sketch. Tía Lorena thought I was talented enough to sell my work in the many galleries popping up in the city. She and my mother had quite the life planned out for me. Along with the lessons from countless tutors in the artistic sphere, I had been schooled in French and English, the general sciences, and histories, with a particular emphasis, of course, on Egypt.

Papá made sure I read the same books on that subject as he did, and also that I read his favorite plays. Shakespeare was a particular favorite of his, and we quoted the lines to each other back and forth, a game only we knew how to win. Sometimes we put on performances for the staff, using the ballroom as our own home theater. Since he was a patron of the opera house, he constantly received a steady supply of costumes and wigs and theater makeup, and some of my favorite memories were of us trying on new ensembles, planning for our next show.

My aunt’s face cleared. “Well, come along, Inez. You have a visitor.”

I shot a questioning look at Elvira. “I thought you said I had a letter?”

“Your visitor has brought a letter from your parents,” Tía Lorena clarified. “He must have run into them during his travels. I can’t think of who else might be writing to you. Unless there’s a secret caballero I don’t know about…” She raised her brows expectantly.

“You ran off the last two.”

“Miscreants, the both of them. Neither could identify a salad fork.”

“I don’t know why you bother rounding them up,” I said. “Mamá has her mind made up. She thinks Ernesto would make me a suitable husband.”

Tía Lorena’s lips turned downward. “There’s nothing wrong with having options.”

I stared at her in amusement. My aunt would oppose a prince if my mother suggested it. They’d never gotten along. Both were too headstrong, too opinionated. Sometimes I thought my aunt was the reason my motherchose to leave me behind. She couldn’t stand sharing space with my father’s sister.

“I’m sure his family’s wealth is a point in his favor,” Amaranta said in her dry voice. I recognized that tone. She resented being married off, more than I did. “That’s the most important thing, correct?”

Her mother glared at her eldest daughter. “It is not, just because…”

I tuned out the rest of the conversation, closed my eyes, my breath lodged at the back of my throat. My parents’ letter was here, and I’d finally have an answer. Tonight I could be planning my wardrobe, packing my trunks, maybe even convincing Elvira to accompany me on the long journey. I opened my eyes in time to catch the little line appear between my cousin’s eyebrows.

“I’ve been waiting to hear from them,” I explained.

She frowned. “Aren’t youalwayswaiting to hear from them?”

A fantastic point. “I asked them if I could join them in Egypt,” I admitted, darting a nervous glance toward my aunt.

“But… but,why?” Tía Lorena sputtered.