The Dollmaker / Season 1, Episode 8
Rozálie's Silent Secrets
Mira’s fingers hovered over the porcelain cheek of the doll named Rozálie, the third in the collection she’d tackled since arriving in Prague. The air in the restoration room of the baroque palace was thick with the scent of old plaster and the faint, acrid tang of her adhesive mix, a sharp contrast to the biting cold seeping through the ancient window frames. Her breath fogged in the dim glow of the desk lamp, the only light in the cavernous space at this hour. She’d been at it since dawn, her back a knot of tension, her eyes burning from staring at the impossibly fine details of Rozálie’s face. The doll’s painted lips curved just so, a secret smile that hadn’t been there yesterday—or had it? Mira blinked hard, her thumb brushing the smooth, cold surface, half-expecting it to warm under her touch like Barbora had. “You’re losing it,” she muttered under her breath, the words swallowed by the oppressive silence of the room. Her voice sounded foreign, too loud, even to herself. She glanced at the other dolls on the shelf across from her—Barbora and Eliška, both restored now, their glass eyes catching the lamplight like they were watching. Waiting. She shook her head, forcing her focus back to Rozálie. The crack along the doll’s temple was delicate, spiderwebbing...