Romanov(23)

I crossed to the cabinet beneath our gramophone. The small door was locked. A thrill struck my chest. This must have been it.

I glanced in his desk drawers—only papers. I riffled through a stack of boxes on the floor by his desk—more papers and empty liquor bottles. Then, beneath a chest of Papa’s journals, I found a small rusted key. Why would he have left it lying there?

It fit perfectly into the cabinet lock. I gave it the slightest turn. Snick. The door opened and . . . vodka. Bottles and bottles of vodka.

No spell items. No spell ink. No books of spell mastery.

I shut the door, locked it, and returned the key to its spot on the desk with an exasperated sigh.

“What are you doing?”

I snapped my head up. Zash filled the doorway, arms folded, pistol glinting at his side. How had I not heard him? My senses had been on high alert. I tried to shrug off the situation, but I’d crossed a line. “Just a bit of mischief.”

“This is more than mischief. This is rebellion.”

I stood by the desk, running through excuses or lies, but this was too much. Too deep. And when improvisation couldn’t rescue you, the best bet was to spill the truth. Honesty was the most efficient—and the most dangerous—rescuer.

“You’re right.” My arms fell limp to my sides. “It wasn’t mischief. But I’m not trying to rebel. I’m trying to look out for my family.”

“What, they can’t handle the soldier rations like the rest of us?”

I could practically taste his bitterness. As my next words spilled forth, I didn’t meet his eyes. “Alexei is ill. I was hoping to find a healing spell that could help him.”

Talk of spells could send a bullet to my heart, but Zash had spell secrets of his own, so I forged ahead. “I know it’s not allowed, but he’s my brother. Everything has been taken from us.” My throat tightened. “We have only each other. Can you blame me for wanting to do anything I can to keep my family from suffering?”

I expected to meet his stiff gaze again, but the coldness was gone. Zash released a long exhale. “Nyet. I cannot blame you for that. If it is the truth, that is likely the only thing you and I have in common.”

I made my way slowly toward the door. He stepped aside to let me out, then he closed the door behind me. I held my arms out from my body. “If you need to search me, please do. I promise I’ve taken nothing.”

He conducted a swift search, and the same unspoken rule kept him from examining where the Matryoshka doll rested. “I’m satisfied.” He straightened.

I clasped my hands in front of me, truly humbled. I wasn’t often caught in my mischief. “Will you . . . will you tell Commandant Avdeev?”

“It is my duty.”

“But perhaps you don’t need to tell him immediately, right?” I attempted a cautious grin. If I couldn’t convince him to keep my secret, I might have to threaten to reveal his. But blackmailing a Bolshevik guard was my absolute last resort.

Zash seemed annoyed. “I am taking you to the garden.”

“Of course.” I followed him down the stairs, palms sweating at what might await me in the garden. Would he take me straight to Avdeev?

“Why is your brother always so sick? The doctor has plenty of medicines at his disposal.”

A tiny little kit of morphine and a few other drugs were Zash’s idea of “plenty of medicines”? All the same, I grasped at the conversation. “It is his blood. It does not clot, so any cut or bruise can be fatal. It is called hemophilia.”

We stepped into the light of the garden and I breathed in the freedom. Zash stopped at the edge of the grass. I did, too. He frowned at me. “When did he contract such an illness?”

Oy. There was no going back now. “Since birth. It has been passed through our bloodline. My uncle died as a boy from the same illness. We . . .” I wrung my hands. Too much truth was coming out, but I couldn’t seem to stop. “We kept it a secret from the public. Alexei was to be the next tsar. The people adored him, but they wouldn’t understand that his weakness was in body only. If they had known, they would think him unfit to rule.”

“You did not have much faith in your people.”

I folded my arms. “Do you wonder why none of us four girls ever married or even courted? Because some nobility heard of Alexei’s illness, and even though they did not know the details, they considered all us girls diseased. Infected. They denied us our futures because of their own speculation.”

Zash raised an eyebrow. “Had you revealed the truth, they might not have.”

“You are not very familiar with nobility.” I sniffed.

“And you are not very familiar with the common folk.”

I’d give him that one. “We always wished to be.” I could reminisce about my life of traveling and palaces as fondly as I liked, but there had always been a layer of frustration shared between us siblings. Frustration in never being allowed out. Not allowed to know our people. Not allowed to attend parties. Not allowed to live or learn or explore beyond our own family life. All at Mamma’s dictate.

“You’d best join your family before your time ends.” Zash nudged me forward with his elbow.

So surprised was I by his touch that I practically bounded away from him. But not before sending a quick thank-you. “Spasibo, Zash.”