1775, CORSICA

Dear Diary,

My suggestion didn’t do Marie Antoinette any favors. Those French have really got it in for her! The whole country is a mess right now. They say a revolution is on the horizon. Everyone is so angry and pointing their fingers at everybody else. It reminds me a lot of the Salem Witch Trials—thank goodness I got out of there when I did!

I avoided all the chaos on the continent today and went to the island of Corsica to spread fairy tales. I knew I wouldn’t find much there, but Mama needed some sun. All I found was a large fancy estate. I knocked and a bug-eyed housekeeper answered the door.

“Sorry to bother you, but are there any kids around here?” I asked.

“You must be the new tutor!” she said, then sighed with so much relief her posture sank a foot.

“Tutor? Nope. I’m afraid I’m not your girl,” I said.

“Are you sure?” she asked desperately. “It pays five hundred francs a day!”

“Then I’m your girl!” I said quickly.

The housekeeper led me inside the estate to a drawing room that had been set up like a classroom. There was only one desk, and a small boy was pouting at it. His arms were crossed and he was sticking his lower lip out. I could already tell he was going to be a little hellion.

“Master Bonaparte?” the housekeeper said cautiously, treating the kid like he was a dangerous animal. “Your new tutor is here.”

The boy instantly shot me a dirty look and I winced. He had a face only a mother could love.