Sofia lifted the heavy white gown over my head.

The silk was cold against my bare skin, smelling of lavender and expensive starch.

As Sofia pulled the laces tight at my back, my breath caught.

“Too tight?” she asked.

“No,” I lied, staring at my reflection in the gilded mirror.

The woman looking back at me looked like a ghost wrapped in silk.

“Matteo,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

He did not turn around, but I saw his shoulders stiffen slightly in the glass reflection.

“What do you know about the Sforza family?” I asked.

The room went entirely silent.

Sofia’s hands paused on the lace at my waist.

Matteo turned slowly, his face expressionless.

“Why do you ask about them?” he said.

“I heard some of the guards talking in the hall yesterday,” I lied, looking him in the eye. “They mentioned the name.”

Matteo walked toward me, stopping just a few feet from the platform.

“They are not your concern,” he said. “They are a shadow that is being dealt with.”

“And my father?” I asked. “Was his business in Boston just a shadow too?”