Take the Key and Lock Her Up

“She killed the king,” I say, because it’s the only fact that matters. “She killed the king.”

“I know,” Alexei says and smooths my hair. Then his arms are gone and his hand takes mine. “Come on.”

He doesn’t take me to Iran. Not to Russia or the US or any of the embassies on the row. Instead, Alexei leads me to a narrow, winding street just like a hundred others in Valancia. In fact, I probably couldn’t find it again if I tried, but I’m not thinking about the future. And I’m not thinking about the past. I’m just trying to memorize every second of this moment because I know it may very well be our last.

When Alexei walks up the steps to a narrow town house, somehow I’m surprised when he reaches into his pocket for a key and unlocks the door.

When he smiles at me, I raise my eyebrows.

“Dominic,” he explains, because of course Dominic has a safe house. He probably has a dozen.

The apartment is old but neat. Clean and tidy but without frills. A lovely woman comes rushing toward the sound of the opening door, saying, “You’re back! I’m so glad. I was …” Karina trails off at the sight of me. Her entire countenance changes when she says, “I know you.”

Carefully, I glance at Alexei, who nudges me closer to his mother. “Yeah. I—”

“Caroline,” she says, and my spirits fall. But then she brightens. “You look just like Caroline, so that means you must be … Grace?”

I must have been holding my breath because I can feel myself exhale.

“Yes,” I say, relief rushing over me. “Yes, I’m Grace.”

And then I see—really see—Alexei’s mother for the first time. Her hair is short and clean and curls into a natural wave just like her son’s. Her eyes are brighter, less tired. But, most of all, she seems present in a way she never has before.

I don’t know what they were giving her at that facility, but I can imagine. I know better than anyone that the medicine can be far worse than the disease. I know how it feels to be here but not here, in the now but locked in the past.

She isn’t shaking. Her eyes don’t dart around the room as if there might be an attack at any moment. But there’s still an edge to her—the never-ceasing pulse of someone who knows just how bad things can turn and just how quickly.

I know because I carry it myself.

“‘Hush, little princess …’” Karina starts to sing, and panic rises within me. I can’t let her slip away—not now. Not after she has come so far.

“No. Stay with me, Karina,” I say, reaching for her. “Stay here.”

“Your mother wanted me to sing that for her, the last time I saw her.”

I look at Alexei. It’s like we’ve both felt a piece of the puzzle start to fall into place.

“When did you see her?” Alexei asks. “When did you see Caroline?”

Karina brightens at the name. “Caroline? Oh, I’d love to see Caroline. Is she here?”

And my heart falls again. Alexei’s hand rests at the small of my back as if to comfort me and remind me that there are no miracles.

“No,” I say, and Karina’s face falls. “She’s not here.”

“That’s too bad,” Karina says. “I haven’t seen her in … well, I think it must have been months.”

“Yes.” I force a smile. “I think it’s been a while.”

“We’re very dear friends, your mother and I. Did you know?”

I swallow and force out the word. “Yes.”

“We were thick as thieves when we were girls. Me. Your mother.” Karina turns. Her entire body stiffens, and when she speaks again it’s like the words are laced with acid. “And her.”

I know who she means, but still I have to ask, “Ann?”

Karina spins on me. “Don’t say her name!”

She’s rocking now, a back and forth so subtle it might be missed by someone who doesn’t know, someone who hasn’t been there. But I see it, and I know it’s like a ticking clock. Karina is going somewhere deep inside her mind and we might be running out of time.

“What happened, Karina?” I ask softly.

She walks to the window. Light from the street falls through the parted curtain and slants across her face. But she’s not looking outside, I know. Alexei’s mother is looking back.

“Do you know about the little princess?”

She doesn’t turn as I say, “I know Amelia lived.”

“Oh, yes,” Karina says, brightening slightly. “She lived and she grew up. Did you know that? And she had a baby and then her baby had babies. They were in the Society—they had to be. So we—my friends and I—we wanted to find them.”

The longer Karina speaks the younger she seems. It’s easy to imagine her as a little girl, gathering with her two best friends, deciding to search for treasure.

“And then …” Karina steps closer, out of the light. “We found them. Oh, how I wish we hadn’t.”

Alexei’s hand is warm on my back. “How did you find them?” he asks.

“There were whispers,” Karina says, her voice low.

“What kind of whispers?” I ask.

“The families who took the babies home kept records, you know. They made notes and plans for the day when Amelia would need to claim her throne. But it never happened. Maybe because peace came and no one dared to disturb it. But I think …” She steps a little closer. Her face actually glows. “I think Amelia was happy. No momma wants to change that. So the records were hidden or lost, but we found them. At first we thought that her descendant was … her. But we were wrong, weren’t we? It isn’t her.”