Page 199

He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to.

My knees weaken, and I sit down because this time I cannot pretend I am fine.

Someone put it there. Someone either pushed Anya or made sure she would slip if she reached the stairs.

Maybe both.

I look at Sergei. “So, it wasn’t an accident.”

“We don’t think so.”

I take a breath. “Did you ever find anything about the car? Or the driver who hit me?”

His expression changes slightly. That’s enough of an answer before he speaks. “No,” he says. “Not enough.”

“Not enough, or nothing?”

He is quiet for a second. “Nothing we can use.”

I nod, though my stomach twists.

I think of Anya last night, curled between Nikolai and me with the movie still playing, asking if she could be a queen. I had been so caught up in Nikolai, in what we were becoming, in whether I belonged in that house, that I had not let myself fully understand what kind of danger Anya was in.

But I understand now.

And I know, with a certainty that scares me, that I would do anything to protect her.

Anything.

I sit forward, hands clasped tightly together so he cannot see them shake. “I want to help you get to the bottom of this.”

25

NIKOLAI

I go in because Anya is asking for me, and for those first few seconds, I make myself think only of her.

Everything else can wait outside the door, including Elara.

Anya’s lying very still under the hospital blanket, with a bandage taped near her forehead and an IV in her hand. Her face is pale, and when she sees me, her mouth trembles before she tries to be brave.

“Papa?”

I am beside her before she can say it twice. “I’m here.”

“My head hurts.”

“I know, baby. The doctor is taking care of it.”

“Did I fall?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t remember.”

“That’s all right.”

She looks confused by that, like memory is something she should be able to fix if she thinks hard enough. I sit on the edge of the bed and take her hand carefully, watching her face for pain.