by Ally Carter
“Seven weeks,” Noah says. “Seven weeks! Do you know how long that is?”
“Yes. It’s just longer than six weeks—not quite as long as eight.”
Noah slides into the seat across from me. The train is smooth and sleek and modern, but this car seems to vibrate with Noah’s rage. “Do you know how long it is when you have no idea if your best friend is dead or alive?”
He’s got a point, and I hate it.
I hate everything.
“I’m sorry, Noah. We couldn’t tell anyone. We—”
“We?” he asks.
“Yes.” Without meaning to, I glance at Alexei. “We.”
Noah says his favorite Portuguese swearword and pushes out of the chair again. He puts his hands on top of his head, long fingers threading through jet-black hair as he paces down the aisle of the train car.
“Noah, we had to leave. No. That’s not quite true. Jamie and Alexei and I … we had to run.”
My voice breaks and he hears it, turns very slowly, and says, “Why?”
This is it, of course. They have the right to know. More than a right. They need to know. But I can’t …
“He kinda has a point, Grace,” Rosie says, as if she thinks I’m getting ready to argue. What can I say, she knows me well. Rosie shrugs her small shoulders and goes on, “You disappear for weeks and then call Megan out of the blue and the next thing we know you’re acting like James Bond and having secret meetings with princesses. Not to mention that none of the stuff that Ann said on that recording made any sense.”
“It makes sense. I mean, it will make sense,” Alexei tries to explain.
“Grace, what happened?” Megan asks. “I mean, one moment we were all at the bonfire and then you were gone. You never came back to the embassy. Your grandfather and Ms. Chancellor wouldn’t even say your name. What happened that night?”
“The Night of a Thousand Amelias?” I ask, as if there could ever be any mistake. Megan nods, and I turn back to the dark glass. Outside, the world is just a dark, blurry shadow. It’s almost fitting as I say, “They stabbed Jamie.”
“What?” Noah lunges back to sit across from me.
“That night. Outside the palace. Remember, you and Megan saw me, and we got separated somehow. It was so loud and crowded and … smoky. There was so much smoke. I hate the smell of smoke. I always have, ever since …”
The fire.
Mom died.
I killed her.
“I hate the smell of smoke,” I say again. “But there I was. At the bonfire. And then I saw Jamie. But at first I didn’t think that it was Jamie. I thought it was Spence. Or Spence’s ghost,” I say, then give a sad little laugh. “See? Told you I was crazy.”
“You’re not crazy,” Rosie says. From her, it’s a little of a pot-kettle situation, but I smile anyway.
“Thanks,” I say. “Anyway, I saw someone who looked just like Spence, walking through the smoke and the firelight. You know how all the men were wearing masks and the women all had on those white dresses? It was …”
“Creepy,” Rosie says. “It was incredibly creepy.”
“Yeah. But I thought I was seeing Spence, and then when he got closer and took off his mask, I realized it was Jamie. And that’s when it occurred to me that if I thought Jamie was Spence, then maybe—”
“Spence’s killer thought Spence was Jamie,” Megan fills in.
I nod. “Exactly.”
For a second there is only silence and darkness and the smooth, swift motion of the train.
“Grace …” Noah prompts, and, finally, I find the words.
“They stabbed him. They stabbed Jamie. I mean, one minute I was trying to tell him that he looked like Spence and that maybe someone had confused the two of them—that maybe someone wanted him dead. And Jamie was looking at me like—he was looking at me like I was the world’s most screwed-up little sister, and then …”
I turn and stare out the glass.
“Jamie’s fine,” Alexei says when Megan, Noah, and Rosie turn to him.
“Jamie is not fine,” I say.
“Jamie is recovering. He will be fine.” Alexei sounds so certain.
“At first, I thought maybe he’d been shot. Except I didn’t hear a shot. I didn’t see anyone stab him, either, but … There was so much blood. Alexei found us then, and he helped me carry Jamie to the palace.”
“You took your bleeding brother to the palace?” Noah asks.
I nod. “Ann was our mom’s friend. I’d just been to see her, to ask her if she knew what my mom was working on when she died.”
“So you were with Ann and then a few minutes later someone tried to kill your brother?” Megan asks.
“Yes.”
“And then you took your almost-dying brother back to the palace?”
“Yes!” I say. I’m not mad at my friends. I’m mad at myself. “It was dark and the streets were so crowded. I didn’t know who’d hurt him. I didn’t know what to do, so Alexei helped me carry him to the palace.”
“How did you get out?” Rosie asks. “I mean, if the royal family wants you both dead and all.”
“Dominic,” I say. “He told the guards that he was there to arrest Alexei, and then he dragged the three of us out of the palace and back to the embassy. Grandpa called in a favor from a general he knows and he sent a helicopter to get us. They flew us to an army hospital in Germany and rushed Jamie into surgery. He lived. Barely. And as soon as he could be moved, Dominic took the three of us on the run.”
“Took you where?” Megan asks.
Alexei and I share a look, and I shrug. “Everywhere,” I say. “We kept moving. But Jamie wasn’t getting better. Jamie was never going to get better if they kept chasing us, so I …”
“So you what?” Now it’s Alexei who is making demands.
I stare him down. “So I gave them someone else to chase.”
That’s the truth, isn’t it? It’s why I’m here. Why I’m not somewhere safely under the Scarred Man’s watch. Or as safe as I possibly could be. No one seems to argue my logic. Not because I’m right, I know. Just because the people in this train car know there’s never any use arguing with me.
“Grace.” It’s Noah who breaks the silence. He’s not pleading, not blaming. He’s just honestly confused as he says, “Why?”
I should answer. I owe him that much. More. I owe them all more than I could ever, ever repay. But for some reason I just look at Alexei.
“How familiar are you all with the story of the lost princess of Adria?” he says, as if super hot Russian guys are often obsessed with princess stories.
“You mean the baby?” Megan says. “Amelia? The one who was killed in the coup?”
“She wasn’t killed,” Alexei tells them.
“Awesome!” Rosie exclaims after a moment. “I mean. It’s true? Really? Because I’ve been calling that for weeks, haven’t I? I mean, that has always been my own personal theory.”
“No,” Noah says, shaking his head. “That’s crazy.”
“Yeah. It’s true,” I say. “A nurse smuggled Amelia out of the palace, and then the Society hid her among their own babies. Some Society member took her home that night and raised her. No one ever knew which baby girl she was. They just brought her home and kept her safe until she grew up and had a kid of her own. And then that kid had a kid. And so on and so on, and then my mom …” I take a deep breath. “My mom found out that she was one of those kids. My mom was Amelia’s direct descendant. I am Amelia’s descendant.”
“So you’re a …” Rosie starts, a mischievous gleam in her eye.
“Yes, Rosie. I’m a princess.”
Noah can’t help himself. He laughs. And then Rosie bursts out laughing, too. Even Megan can’t hide a giggle, and the pressure that Alexei and I have been living under—the constant worry and fatigue and stress—it’s too much. And we both snap. Laughter pours out of us. For a second, I feel young.
Noah is trying to take a deep breath. He’s trying t
o speak. “Do I need to bow?” he asks. “I really think I should bow.”
He tries to stand, but I grab his hand. “If you get out of that seat, I’m going to kick you really, really hard.”
“Fine. Your Highness.”
And just that quickly, the laughter fades. The truth of the matter settles over us like a fog.
No one is laughing anymore.
“So the royal family tried to kill Jamie,” Rosie says, so matter-of-fact that any other theory sounds stupid. “Right?”
Everyone is looking at me. “I think so. I mean … probably. It’s just …”
“What is it, Gracie?” Alexei slides into the seat beside me. I can feel the warmth that radiates off him, centering me.
“The Society,” I say.
“What about them?” Megan sounds almost afraid, almost like a part of her knew this might be coming.
“When I was with the Council of Elders, I thought they might help. They’re the ones who saved Amelia after all. But they didn’t want to help. In fact, they seemed to think that my existence—that Jamie’s existence—might severely threaten the stability of Europe. And they are very committed to a stable Europe.”
“So you think the Society might want you dead, too?” Noah asks me.
For the first time I wonder if Noah’s mom was there. At the meeting of the elders. I might have just called Noah’s mom a killer, but he doesn’t look concerned.
“So, long story short, there are a whole lot of people who might want you dead,” Rosie says in an entirely too-cheerful summary of my situation.
Megan is too quiet.
“What?” I turn to her. She’s maybe the smartest person I know, and something in her silence scares me.
“That explains it.” Megan’s voice is almost a whisper, part awe and part fear.
“Explains what?” I ask.
“The embassy,” she tells me. “That night, The Night of a Thousand Amelias … the embassy was crazy. No one would tell me why, but it was obvious something had happened. My mom wouldn’t let me near the residence, but everything was insane. I’ve never seen the marines like that. It was like a war zone.”
“What’s it like now?” I ask. For the first time I let myself remember that all my family wasn’t evacuated that night. Grandpa is still there.
“How is it different?” I have to know.
But Megan just shakes her head, almost like she’s slowly waking from a dream. “I don’t know. It just is. I mean, for one thing, Ms. Chancellor is never around. At least, I haven’t seen her. I think she might be gone. Moved. Transferred or something. I don’t know. And there are way more guards posted. My mom has been working like crazy. I tried to snoop around and figure out what’s up, but they’re using next-gen encryption, and protocols like I’ve never seen. I do know that your grandpa brought in a bunch of security experts to revamp the cameras and gates and fences and everything. The passage that opens up into the basement? That’s long gone. They put up wire around the walls! Oh, and all the Adrian citizens who work at the embassy? They’re gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?” I ask.
“I mean fired. Or farmed out, given jobs at other embassies on the row. Replaced. No one gets in unless they’re a US citizen who has been through all kinds of CIA background checks and/or is on a very short leash.”
Megan takes a deep breath.
“The place you left, Grace? The building where your mom grew up and you spent your summers when you were little? It’s not an embassy anymore.” Megan looks me in the eye. “It’s a fortress.”
I never had a home. Not really. Or that’s what I liked to say—liked to think. We moved so many times and so often that I never even tried to put down roots. But that’s not true, I’ve come to realize. My mother’s roots were always on Embassy Row. And she planted mine there, too. It’s more than a building, more than my grandfather. More even than the secret, ancient heritage of a grandmother I never knew. Like most things, I didn’t know it until it was gone. And Megan’s words make me miss the only home I’ve ever known.
I look back out the window. When I speak, my breath fogs against the glass.
“So … someone is trying to kill me. And Jamie. They want—no, they need—us dead. We’re a threat. And as long as we live … as long as our entire bloodline lives, we will always be a threat.”
“But, Grace …” Rosie stumbles over her words, she seems so confused, so lost, as she asks, “Do you want to be a princess?”
That this is a question people now seriously ask me is something I can’t quite comprehend.
“No, Ro, I most certainly do not want to be a princess.”
“Well, maybe if you explain that to everyone,” Rosie says. “Maybe if you just tell them, then maybe …”
I’m just starting to speak, to protest, to try to explain that no one has ever taken my word about anything, when Megan beats me to it.
“It doesn’t work that way,” she says.
“Yeah. They’re never going to believe me,” I say, but Megan is shaking her head.
“No, Grace. You don’t understand. Adrian law won’t allow it.”
Megan reaches into her bag for her laptop. In a flash, it’s open and connecting to the train’s Wi-Fi. We all sit in silence as her perfectly manicured fingers fly over the keys. Then Megan is spinning the laptop around.
“I’m talking about this.”
It’s a website devoted to Adrian history, specifically the history of the government.
“After the War of the Fortnight, all kinds of people still believed that Amelia was alive,” Megan says. “Or maybe they just hoped she was. Anyway, it was a rumor for a long time.”
“Okay,” Noah says, as if it’s not okay and he doesn’t understand at all. He’s not the only one.
“Think about it,” Megan tells us. “The country had just been through a war. A bloody, bitter revolution. Adria was fractured and broken. And they needed to move on. They brokered the peace treaty under the condition that the dead king’s brother would assume the throne but that there would also be a new parliament. Peace depended upon that. But there were still all these whispers—all these theories—that Amelia was alive, and as much as half the country wanted the war to be over, the other half didn’t want Amelia’s throne taken away from her if she was still alive—that if she really did survive, they owed it to her to keep her throne intact.”
“So?” Leave it to Rosie to cut right to the heart of the matter. “Amelia never was put on the throne. And then, presumably, she died. Unless she became a vampire. Did she become a vampire?”
“No,” Megan says quite simply. “But they wrote the constitution as if someday she might come back, and”—Megan turns to the laptop and then begins to read—“‘In the event that our lost Amelia should be found, she or her heirs shall return to the throne of the country that is rightfully theirs.’”
Megan’s words are still echoing around the train car, but my thoughts are racing by as quickly as the landscape outside.
“Don’t you see?” Megan sounds like she’s losing patience with us. “If Amelia had returned—if her heirs return—then it all goes away. The prime minister. Parliament. Not to mention the current king. All gone. Amelia’s heirs—that’s you, Grace. That’s Jamie—would reclaim the throne and then Adria would, by law, revert to the government it had before the coup.”
“That can’t be right.” I’m shaking my head, retreating farther and farther back in my seat as if it can also send me back in time. “They wouldn’t have written the constitution to a country like that. Not to pacify some crazy conspiracy theorists.”
“But they weren’t crazy, were they?” Noah asks.
And that, of course, is the problem.
“It’s in the constitution,” I say, suddenly defeated.
“I’m not saying the Society is right, Grace,” Megan goes on. “But, according to this, Jamie doesn’t have a choice.”
I’m sixteen years old and short for my age
—too thin and unstable for my own good. But I’ve never felt truly powerless before. Even strapped to a bed, medications and guilt pounding in my veins, I had the power to keep yelling about the Scarred Man. I had a mission, a cause. A vigilante’s surety that someday the world would see that I was right.
But that day has come and gone, and now I know that there is absolutely nothing I can do to change it.
“Grace?”
The window is so black now. How is that possible? Outside, there aren’t even any lights. No distant towns or lone farmhouses. It’s like this train has carried us far, far out to sea.
Maybe that is why it feels like I am drowning.
You should probably wear a hat or something.”
It’s easy to forget—with all my crazy and my drama—that Alexei is still a wanted man. They still think he killed that cadet in Adria. There’s still a price on his head. And now he’s come back to Europe—to the belly of the beast.
Because of me.
And, suddenly, it scares me.
“You need to go back, Alexei.”
“I need to go back?”
The train car is empty. It’s supposed to be the café, but it’s too late. There is no one working behind the tiny bar. If a person wanted to buy a stale sandwich or bag of greasy chips, they’d be out of luck. Alexei and I are all alone.
There’s no Dominic looking over our shoulders, no Jamie lingering nearby.
“You shouldn’t have come to Europe.”
“I shouldn’t have come to Europe?” Alexei shouts.
“You can do something besides repeat everything I say, you know.”
“Oh, can I? Because what I want to do is strangle you. I want to tie you up and throw you over my shoulder and jump out of a moving train. I want to take you to the coldest place in Siberia, to the darkest part of the moon. I want to keep you safe, Gracie. So the question is, why are you so determined to stop me?”
“Is Jamie okay?”
His fingers are sliding into my hair, holding me still and keeping me close. I’m not going to run anymore, the gesture tells me. We are bound now. From this moment on … together.
“Gracie.” My name is like a breath, and I’m not sure Alexei even knows he’s said it.
