Take the Key and Lock Her Up

“What are you doing out here?” Lila asks me.

“I needed some air.”

“There’s plenty of air in there.” She points toward the palace.

“I needed to see everyone and … explain.”

“You didn’t explain before you left?” It’s not a question. It’s an accusation. And I really hate how much she’s right.

“I didn’t want anyone to talk me out of it, okay?”

Lila eases closer. “What exactly is it?”

I look back at the palace, at the spotlights and the turrets and the walls.

“Running away,” I whisper, but I don’t explain and Lila doesn’t ask for more.

“Where is everyone?” I ask.

Lila eyes me. “What makes you so sure they’re all together?”

At this, I have to smile. “I know them.”

She rolls her eyes and cocks a hip but goes ahead and says, “Come on.”

Iran.

Of course they’re in Iran. Lila freaked out the first time we brought her here, but I guess she’s gotten over it because she doesn’t bat an eye as we move out of the tunnels that run beneath the city and into the basement room with the hot-springs-fueled swimming pool and golden walls.

“They’re up here,” she says, starting up the stairs.

I’ve never been on the third floor, but that’s where we find them.

Rosie is pacing. Megan and Noah are too close on the couch, so at peace and at home in each other’s presence that I feel a little guilty for having seen it, having spied on what it looks like to be happy.

“Look who I found,” Lila says, and everyone turns toward us.

“Grace!” Rosie is a tiny blond blur, hurling herself into my arms. “Where have you been?”

“You know where she was, Rosie.” The accent is thick and the voice is deep and I know without turning that Alexei is angry. He closes a door behind him.

Heavy draperies cover the windows, pulled tight to block the light of the little camping lanterns that are scattered throughout the room. We’re a long way from the cave in the hills where Alexei took refuge last summer, but we’re still hiding, I realize. Alexei. And me. I just have to do my hiding in plain sight.

“How …” I start but trail off when I hear the singing.

“‘Hush, little princess …’”

I look at the closed door, but I don’t try to move past Alexei.

“How is she?”

“She’s crazy,” Alexei says, as if he can’t believe that I forgot.

But Megan is up and coming toward me, pulling me into a too-tight hug. “Karina has started eating,” she says when she pulls back. “And she’s been sleeping, too. We’ve gotten her to take a shower and—”

“Now she smells good while she rants and raves like a crazy person,” Alexei says.

It should hurt me. I’m pretty sure it’s meant to. But I’m numb now. It’s going to take a lot more than that to make me bleed.

“Has she mentioned my mom?” I ask. Megan shakes her head.

“But we haven’t asked,” she rushes to add.

“So, Grace.” Rosie is practically bouncing. She’s like a golden retriever puppy that has just been asked if it wants to go play. “What’s the plan? I mean, you do have a plan, don’t you? I know you have a plan.”

“A plan for what?” I ask.

Rosie practically rolls her eyes. “For vengeance.” She sounds more than a little bit evil. Then she laughs. “Or revenge or justice or whatever you’re planning. So tell us. What. Is. The. Plan?”

I realize they’re all looking at me now. This is supposed to be some kind of move in the chess game of my life. But I’m just a pawn who has already been sacrificed. I don’t know how to tell them that the game is over.

“I …”

“Are we going to blackmail Ann?” Rosie guesses. “Kidnap the king? Ooh. I know. Palace coup!”

“A coup is how we got into this mess in the first place,” Noah reminds her.

I have to shake my head. I have to find the words. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, disappointing people. I’ve certainly had enough practice. But there is something in the way Rosie is staring up at me. These people trusted me once. They trust me still. I’ve already decided to break my own heart. Not even I am cruel enough to keep on breaking theirs, too.

“There is no plan,” I tell them at last. Maybe I’ve somehow given up on the dream of finding whatever my mother was looking for. Or maybe I’m just through letting other people get hurt.

Rosie rolls her eyes. “There has to be a plan. You wouldn’t just move into the palace and—”

“I’m going to end it, Rosie. I just want to end it. And if I move in with Ann and let her groom me into whatever I need to be, it will end. Eventually.”

“I don’t understand,” Rosie says. “How is that going to end anything?”

“It will end … when I marry the prince,” I say.

I’m ready for stunned silence. I’m prepared for outrage and indignation. But I’m not expecting the sound of a voice I barely recognize yelling, “When you do what?”

No one bows. There are no curtsies. I don’t know what is more unexpected—the sight of the future king of Adria standing in the lantern-lit room inside the Iranian embassy or the looks on the faces of my friends as they recognize the boy who is now screaming inside the sanctuary of Iran.