My suspicions have borne fruit. I look over the list that Emma handed me after my lessons with Ms. Laroche, my floor-length black school skirt pooled around my ankles to reveal my garters.
"Every single one of them has gone missing?" I repeat in disbelief. There must be at least 15 people on this list. 15 souls who had lives and hopes and dreams, all gone, presumed dead.
Emma nods, her mood indecipherable. They are servants like her, but unlike them, they serve a master who couldn't care less about their lives. Not that I'm any better. A familiar shout echoes in my ears as I remember how that boy had screamed when the arrow hit him. If I hadn't had healing abilities and he had died, I would've been just like Empress Katya. Maybe worse, considering I hail from an era where everyone is mostly equal.
