Page 62 of His Hidden Heir

She looks proud when she finishes that long line. I can’t help it. My chest softens.

“You did well,” I say. “Very well.”

I write each part. Klin. Snow. Blue roof. Red birds. Well ring. Hooks. Two hours north.

“Again,” I say. “So we seal it.”

She repeats the verse. The words stay the same. That is good.

“Last verse,” I say. “Do you remember the one with the fox?”

She grins a little. “I liked that one,” she says.

“I know you did,” I say. “Tell me.”

“Little star, count three tall pines,” she says. “One small path past the tallest tree. Door with a fox and a bright red sun. Knock two times and then again three.”

She holds up her fingers as she counts. Two, then three. I write the knock pattern on the side of the page and circle it.

“Is that all?” I ask.

“She said also to remember the crooked birch again,” Nadia says. “So I made a picture in my head. Three tall pines and one bent birch.”

I add that note.

“Anything else new?” I ask. “Any other strange word?”

She shakes her head. “No. Then he said time. Then it went away.”

I close my eyes for a moment. I see the shape of the north road in my mind. I see the sign for Klin that stands by the highway. I see the thin lakes past it. I see the old dam I visited once during a winter run. I see a line of cottages around a narrow lake, blue roofs against snow. We used one of those houses for storage one season. We stopped after a problem with customs. The house stayed on a list of assets. We never sold it. It was too far, too rotten, and we had better places.

I open my eyes again. Anastasia has moved closer. She stands just behind Nadia’s chair now. Her hand hovers near the backrest, not quite touching.

“She remembers a lot,” Anastasia says softly. “That little head holds more than we think.”

“Yes,” I say. “Her mother trained her well.”

A brief shadow passes over her face at that. It’s gone quickly, but I see it. She was the one in the room when Raina still stood. She was the one who brought the cocoa.

“Papa,” Nadia says.

“Yes,” I say and focus on her again.

“Are we going there?” she asks. “To the fox door house?”

“Do you want the full answer,” I ask, “or the gentle one?”

She thinks for a second. “Full,” she says.

I nod. “Yes,” I say. “We are going there. I will go. I will bring men. We will find that house.”

“And Mama,” she says.

“I will do everything I know to bring her back,” I say.

The words come out steady, but inside there is a hard edge. I have gone to war for less than this. I have burned whole chains of business for less than this. For Raina and for my daughter, I will cut through whatever is in front of me.

Nadia looks at the dark screen. “I don’t want to stay here,” she says suddenly. “Not in this house.”