Because It Is My Blood (Birthright #2)(26)

I got a message to her to come see me, and that afternoon, she did. She had a black eye. I asked her what had happened.

She shrugged. Then wrote, Elbow to the face. Rinko.

I told her what I needed. She nodded. Then she nodded some more before putting pencil to pad. I’ll come up with something. I am honored that u came to me, A.

“Once I’m gone, they’ll probably figure out you helped me. You understand that means you won’t get out in November, right?”

I do. Don’t care. Nowhere to go. Better to have friends in a year or 2 than b friendless, homeless, & penniless in Nov.

“I feel selfish asking you to help me,” I said. “Asking you to stay here longer when I’m trying to avoid the same thing.”

Mouse shrugged again. Our situations are diff. I am a criminal. U are a name. Besides, they are stupid here & they might not figure it out & then u will owe me anyway. I will bet on u, if u will bet on me. Around 2 a.m., right?

“Yes. Go see my lawyer Simon Green when you’re free. He will help you with whatever you need.”

She made an “okay” sign.

“Thank you, Kate,” I said.

She bowed, then slipped out of the room. No one had seen her come in, and no one had seen her leave. I wondered if I could count on a girl so quiet to make enough of a distraction.

Saturday morning, Natty and Imogen came to see me. They knew nothing of my plans, and so I tried to keep the mood light. I did hug Natty extra tight. Who knew when I’d be able to see her again.

Simon Green and I had decided that I shouldn’t have any visitors in the afternoon. I needed to rest for the long night ahead.

Still, I couldn’t sleep. I was anxious and I couldn’t even walk around to calm myself. I was starting to wish we hadn’t told everyone not to come.

I looked at the clock. It was 5:00. Visitors weren’t allowed after 6:00 anyway.

I closed my eyes.

I had fallen into a sort of half sleep when someone came into the room.

I rolled over. A tall boy with longish blond dreadlocks and thick black glasses. I didn’t recognize him until he spoke. “Annie,” Win said.

“You look ridiculous,” I told him, but I couldn’t help smiling. “Where’s your cane?”

He walked over to me, and I struggled to sit up in bed and tugged at his ropy wig.

“I didn’t want anyone to figure out who I was.”

“You didn’t want to make things worse for your father.”

“I didn’t want to make things worse for you!” He lowered his voice. “Dad said you were being transferred from the hospital tomorrow. That if I insisted on seeing you, today would be the best day. And that if I needed to behave so foolishly, I should at least wear a disguise. Thus, the wig.”

I shook my head and wondered how many of my plans Charles Delacroix had guessed. “Why would he do that?”

“My father is a mystery.”

He pulled a stool over to the bed. He rubbed at his hip.

“Arsley was the one who took the picture,” I told him.

“I know,” Win said, bowing his head. “I shouldn’t have done that. Taken your hand, I mean. Not in such a public place.” As he said this, he stroked my fingertips with his own.

“You couldn’t have known how it would all turn out.”

“I did know, Annie. I did. I had been warned. By my father. By my father’s campaign manager. By Alison Wheeler. By you, even. I didn’t care.”

“What do you mean, ‘by Alison Wheeler’?”

Win looked at me. “Anya, haven’t you guessed?”

I shook my head.

“I was the one who asked Alison to go to you in the library.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Well, she didn’t want to but she knew I wanted to be near you. And I convinced her that lunch would be safe enough since Arsley and Scarlet and Alison would be there, too.”

I was still confused. “Why would your girlfriend do that?”

“Anya! Don’t tell me you didn’t suspect!”

“Suspect what?”

“Alison is my friend but she also works for my father’s campaign. They asked her if she would pretend to be my girlfriend during the campaign season so it would appear that I had put my relationship with Anya Balanchine—you—behind me. It was July—we weren’t together—and, despite everything, I wanted to help my father. How could I say no? He is my father, Anya. I love him. As I love you.”

Had Anya Balanchine—me—not been handcuffed to the bed, she would have run out of the room. I felt like my brain was exploding and my heart, too. He reached over the bed rail and wiped my cheek with his sleeve. I suppose I was crying.

“You really didn’t suspect?”

I shook my head. My throat was thick and useless. “I thought you had tired of me,” I said in a voice about as intelligible as my uncle Yuri’s.

“Annie,” he said. “Annie, that could never happen.”

“We won’t see each other for a really long time,” I whispered.

“I know,” Win whispered back. “Dad told me that might be the case.”

“It could be years.”

“I’ll wait,” he said.