The Secret Daughter of the Tsar by Jennifer Laam

Author:Jennifer Laam
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Eleven

NEW YORK CITY

PRESENT DAY

Veronica dashed down the stairs of Alexei Romanov’s building, clutching her coat tightly to her chest, gulping gas-laden fumes from the ancient heating system. Her pulse thudded in her ears in time to the shaky rhythm of her breathing. She burst out the lobby door, determined to confront Michael at once.

She spotted him on the bench in the park across the street, waiting for her, as he promised, still the loyal bodyguard. He’d pulled his wool hat over his ears, his cheeks were flushed red, and his breath was steaming in the chilly air. Behind him, laughing children in scarves and mittens played on a swing set.

A rubber ball landed in the bushes behind Michael and he bent to retrieve it. The shrubs rustled and he emerged a second later, dirt on his cheeks. He threw the ball back to a kid on the playground and wiped the dirt away. Veronica felt a catch in her throat. She remembered her dream the first night after she met Michael. All those happy Russians lined up along the banks of the Neva River, flags waving. The reptilian voices in her head began to hiss again. You can’t trust him.

Then Michael spotted her and rushed forward to greet her. “What happened?” He paused to catch his breath. “Did you meet Alexei Romanov? What did he say?”

Veronica pulled the hood of her coat down over her ears to protect them from the wind. She stared at Michael, at a loss for how to begin.

“He called me a liar, right?” She heard a tremor in his voice. “I told you he’d say that. What else?”

“I can’t believe it,” she said.

“I knew it.” Michael snorted and began to pace in front of the bench.

Veronica remembered all the accounts she’d read of the Romanovs under house arrest. The tsar had spent his last days in captivity marching back and forth across the cramped living room of the Ipatiev House in Siberia. She saw the same restlessness in Michael now. And Alexandra … she saw a resemblance there as well, despite the generations that had passed since. The height, the steady gaze, even the hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she blurted. One of the little boys on the playground turned to look at her. “Alexei Romanov doesn’t trust you,” she said, quieter now. “I don’t think he knows what to make of it all. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

Michael took a moment to study her face. “Can’t believe I didn’t tell you what?” he asked carefully.

“About the missing fifth daughter of the tsar.”

Michael grasped the back of the bench for support. “He told you.”

“You think Alexandra is your great-grandmother? Nicholas is your great-grandfather?”

“Wait.” Michael held his hand up. “He told you that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? If this is true, no one else in his little club would have a prayer of crowning themselves tsar.”

She watched the movement of Michael’s shoulders as he drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t tell you because it’s nothing more than a family rumor.

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