VANGUARD(14)

“You look beautiful,” he whispered in Orlisian.

“As do you.” He complimented her accent; she had continued her Orlisian lessons throughout college. Much later, they strolled in the spectacular hotel gardens in the summer night. He took her hand and interlaced their fingers.

“You are happy, mana mila?” he asked.

“I would be happier if I could see you more often,” she said with a smile. “But yes, Mikael, I am happy. Are you?”

“For now, yes.” He walked her back to her room and lingered outside the door. His green eyes flickered down to her mouth, then he leaned down to kiss her. She let her tongue brush over the edge of his lip. He caught his breath and deepened the kiss. When they pulled apart, his cocked an eyebrow at her in an unasked question.

Sophie was sorely tempted to invite Michael into her hotel room for the night. But as appealing as that was, Sophie valued his friendship too much to risk it on a one-night stand. Their time would come, and when it did it would be for keeps.





Chapter 3





January 11, 2014





Sundays were difficult.

Sophie took the train into Manhattan in the morning. She didn’t own a car, had never needed one in New York City. She got off in Midtown and walked three blocks in the icy January wind to a street of elegant brownstones.

She always dressed nicely when she came here, although she couldn’t say why. Respect, maybe. Perhaps pretending to be something she wasn’t. She pinned her red hair back and wore charcoal dress pants, a white silk blouse, and a black cardigan under her coat.

The door opened before she could touch the doorbell, and she knew the woman standing before her had been waiting for her. Signe Nariovsky-Trent greeted Sophie with a small but genuine smile.

“Come in, mana meita,” Signe said, taking her coat and hanging it away. Sophie felt her cheeks heat up at Signe’s casual use of the traditional Orlisian parental endearment “my daughter”. Michael’s mother had always been kind to her, but their interactions had changed in months Michael had been missing.

The elegant older woman turned to embrace Sophie, kissing her on both cheeks. “It is good to see you, as always.”

“Thank you,” Sophie said. “It’s nice to be inside. The wind is chilly today.”

Signe was beautiful. Her blond hair was pulled up into a neat chignon with not a strand of gray in sight. Long lashes framed blue eyes. Despite her years, Signe had a dancer’s figure – slender arms, a swan’s neck, graceful carriage. Even her nose seemed aristocratic. Sophie wished she could have seen her dance at the height of her career.

Looking into Signe’s face made her want to cry out in pain. Michael bore a fierce resemblance to his mother, and Signe was a stark reminder of exactly what had been lost to all of them.

“You will stay for lunch?” the older woman asked. They went through the same ritual every week. She always asked, and Sophie always stayed for lunch. Signe led her into the living room where Maxwell sat reading the paper and drinking tea.

“Sophie.” He rose to embrace her. “So good to see you.” Every time she visited, Maxwell looked a little older. His black hair had gone almost completely white. “Please sit down.”

Sophie didn’t bother with small talk. She knew what they wanted from her, and what she needed from them.

“The coalition received a new intelligence report from the area surrounding Parnaas,” she began. She handed Maxwell a photocopy of the report, and he added it to an overflowing folder in front of him. Sophie told them everything the coalition had accomplished that week, every scrap of new information they’d learned. She held nothing back.

When Sophie finished, Maxwell shared what he’d heard through diplomatic and UN channels. As an advisor to the UN on Northern European affairs, Maxwell had access to a great deal of information.

“No indication yet that the Soviets will back down about allowing the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees into the camp,” Maxwell reported. “Security Council is still deadlocked; no one wants to take on the Soviets. In other words, the UN is effectively tied up in its own knots at this point. Your coalition is the refugees’ best hope.”

After that, Signe shared gossip and rumors from the Orlisian community. Then they ate lunch. They had done this every Sunday since Michael had disappeared. Nobody outside the family knew about this exchange, not even Will. He never questioned where Sophie got her nuggets of inside information. She doubted Max ever gave her any truly classified material, but she imagined much of it was restricted.