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“What are you waiting for? Do you need me to read it for you?” Elvira asked, looking over my shoulder.

I ignored her and hastily opened the envelope, my eyes darting to the smeared lettering. Someone must have gotten the paper wet, but I barely noticed because I finally realized what I was reading. The words swam across the paper as my vision blurred. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe, and the room had turned frigid.

Elvira let out a sharp gasp near my ear. A cold shiver skipped down my spine, an icy finger of dread.

“Well?” Tía Lorena prodded with an uneasy glance at the solicitor.

My tongue swelled in my mouth. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to speak, but when I did, my voice was hoarse, as if I’d been screaming for hours.

“My parents are dead.”

PART ONEA WORLD AWAY

CAPÍTULO UNO

NOVEMBER 1884

For God’s sake, I couldn’t wait to get off this infernal ship.

I peered out the round window of my cabin, my fingers pressed against the glass as if I were a child swooning outside a bakery window craving alfajores and a vat of dulce de leche. Not one cloud hung in the azure sky over Alexandria’s port. A long wooden deck stretched out to meet the ship, a hand in greeting. The disembarking plank had been extended, and several of the crew swept in and out of the belly of the steamship, carrying leather trunks and round hatboxes and wooden crates.

I had made it to Africa.

After a month of traveling by boat, traversing miles of moody ocean currents, I’d arrived. Several pounds lighter—the seahatedme—and after countless nights of tossing and turning, crying into my pillow, and playing the same card games with my fellow travelers, I was really here.

Egypt.

The country where my parents had lived for seventeen years.

The country where they died.

I nervously twisted the golden ring. It hadn’t come off my finger in months. Bringing it felt like I’d invited my parents with me on the journey. I thought I’d feel their presence the minute I locked eyes with the coast. A profound sense of connection.

But it never came. Itstillhadn’t.

Impatience pushed me away from the window, forced me to pace, my arms flapping wildly. Up and down I walked, covering nearly every inch of my stately room. Nervous energy circled around me like a whirlwind. I shoved my packed trunks out of the way with my booted foot to clear a wider path. My silk purse rested on the narrow bed, and as I marched past, I pulled it toward me to grab my uncle’s letter once more.

The second sentence still killed me, still made my eyes burn. But I forced myself to read the whole thing. The subtle rocking of the ship made it hard, but despite the sudden lurch in my stomach, I gripped his note and reread it for the hundredth time, careful not to accidentally tear the paper in half.

July 1884

My dear Inez,

I hardly know where to begin, or how to write of what I must. Your parents went missing in the desert and have been presumed dead. We searched for weeks and found no trace of them.

I’m sorry. More sorry than I’ll ever be able to express. Please know that I am your servant and should you need anything, I’m only a letter away. I think it’s best you hold their funeral in Buenos Aires without delay, so that you may visit them whenever you wish. Knowing my sister, I have no doubt her spirit is back with you in the land of her birth.

As I’ve no doubt you are aware, I’m now your guardian, and administrator of the estate and your inheritance. Since you are eighteen, and by all accounts a bright young woman, I have sent a letter to the national bank of Argentina granting my permission for you to withdraw funds as you need them—within reason.

Only you, and myself, will have access to the money, Inez.

Be very careful with whom you trust. I took the liberty of informing the family solicitor of the present circumstances and I urge you to go to him should you need anything immediate. If I may, I recommend hiring a steward to oversee the household so that you may have time and spaceto grieve this terrible loss. Forgive me for this news, and I truly lament I can’t be there with you to share your grief.

Please send word if you need anything from me.

Your uncle,

Ricardo Marqués