Below the portrait hung two plaques. Roman’s name was inscribed on the first. Mira peered at the second to read the description. NICKNAMED THE WHITE CASTLE, THIS ROOM WAS BUILT FOR ROMAN’S FUTURE DAUGHTERS. WHEN HE WAS UNABLE TO HAVE CHILDREN, IT INSTEAD BECAME A PLACE WHERE HE ENTERTAINED GUESTS, AND IT WAS CONSIDERED TO BE HIS FAVORITE ROOM IN THE HOUSE.

The ballroom was meant to be a replication. The Woodsman family portraits reproductions. The furniture and décor inauthentic copies. It was all what was assumed to have existed, or conjured in Alden’s imagination to have been here during the Woodsman family era. It wasn’t real. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling it was.

Mira left and tried to get her bearings. She came across one of the staircases and went upstairs, searching for Celine’s room. Each door had a plaque with the name of the room embossed in gold. Mira scanned over each one. THE RANDOLPH. THE CHAUNCY. THE LANDRY. THE SEATON. All plantation owner names. She kept going until she reached the end of the hall and stood in front of the last one. THE CORDELIA.

“Celine,” she said, unsure if she’d remembered correctly. She lightly knocked on the door, not wanting to disturb the guests in other rooms. “It’s Mira. I just— You said to stop by, and—”

“Oh, I was hoping to see you,” Celine said upon opening the door. “Everything was so rushed earlier. There wasn’t nearly enough time for us to talk at the dinner.”

Celine wore a white negligee underneath a white terry robe. Her hair was freshly washed and the damp waves had made wet spots on the shoulders of the fabric. With her face stripped of the day’s makeup, she looked like the Celine Mira used to know, except older. She was still beautiful, but slight imperfections had begun to show. Tiny cracks had settled on the corners of her eyelids and mouth. Her complexion appeared duller, her blue eyes less vibrant.

This could have been one of the rooms Jesse had snuck into when they were younger, but since everything was different now, she couldn’t know for sure. Brass wall sconces emitted an amber glow. Bouquets of peach roses filled the vases on the vanity and on both bedside dressers. Celine had ordered champagne for herself, and the crystal tray with the empty glasses and half-drunk bottle sat on the floor near the bed. The bed’s frame was a replicated antique, its posts carved with intricate sheaves of rice. After letting Mira in, Celine went to it and settled on the mattress. She ignored the champagne and picked up a brush that’d been hidden under the sheet’s folds and ran it through her hair.