M. Rose - The Secret Language of Stones

I expected her to say something. Just a few words of thanks. Someone of her breeding would have acknowledged my efforts. But she remained silent.

I released her hands. She dropped the talisman on the table.

How odd, I thought. Wasn’t she going to take it with her? Her grandchildren’s memorabilia was contained within the crystal. How could she leave it behind?

Yasin appeared at her side, helping her up.

“The car is waiting,” he said to her, and then turned to me.

“I believe you have something for Her Highness?”

Pavel had told me only to give her the second necklace, the necklace with the emerald eggs, if she was alone. But we weren’t alone. And moment by moment I was becoming less and less certain she was the Dowager at all, but an imposter. Could the real Dowager have left the talisman behind? Wouldn’t she have clutched it to her chest, cherishing it and the hope it had offered?

“Yes, I do,” I said, and took off the chain with the ruby eggs dangling from it. As I gave the decoy necklace to her, I prayed my hand wouldn’t shake. “Monsieur Orloff wanted me to give these to you and tell you they are from your son. A gift he planned on giving you himself one day.”

I watched the woman pretending to be the Dowager take the piece of jewelry and barely glance at it as she slipped it into a black satin reticule.

Together they left the room. I watched their backs as they walked through the sitting room and stepped over the threshold and into the hallway. I watched as the stranger dressed in the Dowager’s clothes turned the corner. As she walked out of sight, the panic inside of me bubbled up and soured my stomach and then I did start to shake. From head to toe. My fingers worst of all.

Somewhere in this godforsaken castle, the mother of the recently executed tsar of Russia sat tied to a chair, her feet and her hands bound. A gag stuffed in her mouth. I had no doubt, if she wasn’t already dead, she would be soon. I surmised they wouldn’t kill her until they safely held the necklace.

And now they did.

Even though it wasn’t the real one, even though there was nothing inside those pretty red eggs. They believed they possessed what Monsieur had sent me to deliver.

“Well done, Opaline. You made an old woman very happy,” Grigori said. We were in the foyer, watching the Dowager and her party leave. “Did you tell her the truth? Did you really not hear any messaging?”

“I really didn’t,” I said as I put my hand up to my forehead and rubbed it. I knew why I hadn’t heard anything. The talisman that was now in my pocket would only have worked if held by the children’s true grandmother, not a fraud dressed in her clothes.

“Another headache?” he asked, with what seemed like real concern.

“Yes, a terrible one. I think I need to take a powder and lie down for a little while. Is that all right?”

“Of course. We’re not departing for at least two hours.”

“I’ll go to the kitchen. I’m sure they can find something.”

“I’ll get it for you,” Grigori offered, “and bring it to your room.”

I had no choice but to let him.

A few minutes later, he knocked on my door and came in carrying a small tray. I took the powder in water. “Thank you. Now I should lie down.”

He left. I waited a few minutes and then got up. I wanted to find Briggs and find out if there was a phone. Even if they were in on the charade, I could come up with an innocent enough reason to need the phone. And then I’d find a way to call the police. If I bumped into Grigori, I’d just say the headache hadn’t gone away and I wanted some tea.

But when I arrived at the kitchen, there was no one in sight. Had all the staff been sent off already? Was anyone left in the castle but Grigori and me? And the Dowager?

I searched but found no phone in the kitchen. Taking a glass of water, as an alibi in case anyone remained behind, I left and made my way to the library. No phone in sight. Was it possible there wasn’t one? No. This castle belonged to royalty. Modernized, electrified, there must be a phone. Even if no one currently lived here, people had been living here as recently as four years ago, Briggs had said.

The clock on the mantel chimed. I’d used up a half hour. And I hadn’t found a phone and I didn’t know how to get to the Dowager. And then I remembered the prints of the castle in the upstairs hall. A series showing how it had evolved over the centuries.

I made it back to the hallway without being seen and examined each print. The dungeon must have been part of the original building. I started there and then, by studying each subsequent print, finally understood the layout of the east, west, and center wings. I knew my location. And hers. And now how to get there.

I found the older wing of the castle, then the stone room, the staircase, and finally the dungeon. With shaking hands, I tried the door, afraid I was not going to find the empress alive. When I opened it, I found myself staring at a lifeless woman sitting in a chair, her head falling on her chest, her chest not moving.

I was too late. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Then I heard rustling. Was it Grigori? Had he found me? I turned around. No one was at the door. The noise continued. I turned again.

The sound wasn’t emanating from the door but from the Dowager. She’d raised her head. Was twisting in her seat.

First, I removed her gag.

“I thought it might be those men again and wanted them to think I’d expired.”

“Well, it worked. I thought…Thank God you didn’t, Your Highness.”

I untied her hands and went to work on her feet. Then I helped her up. Wobbling, she had to take two turns around the room before her circulation returned to her limbs and she could stand on her own.

Amazingly, she wasn’t scared, but angry and full of fury. “These are the monsters who destroyed everything that ever mattered to me. Hurry, child, they will be back and I need you to help me.”

“But how?”

“I own a gun. You have to get it for me.”

“But they packed all your things. Yasin and your maid, who was dressed as you, left.”

“I should have been more suspicious when my own maid came down with a stomach bug on the boat. But the gun is still in the room, I’m sure.”

I turned to go, took five steps, and came face-to-face with Grigori.

“I thought your head ached,” Grigori said as he took my arm and pushed me down into one of the other chairs and then, before I could respond, began to tie my arms behind my back.

The Dowager rushed over and tried to intervene, but he shoved her and she went sprawling onto the floor.

He hadn’t yet gagged either of us. I started to scream: “Help, help!” The Dowager joined me. Grigori looked at both of us and laughed.

“Scream as loud as you want. Everyone is gone but Fodor and I. Oh, you don’t know who Fodor is. I think you know him as Briggs. He’s one of us.”

“What do you want with me?” the Dowager asked.

“I? Very little. We’ve taken the jewels my father hid all these years and they are on their way to Russia. I’ve done my job. There are some people arriving later this evening who want to talk to you, Your Highness .” He spat out the word. “And I promised to give them that opportunity.

“As for you-” Grigori turned to me. Sadness in his brown-diamond eyes. He gave me one of his smiles-not dazzling but tinged with despair. “I wish you’d stayed in your room. Minded your own business. We were leaving, you and I. We were going home to Paris.” He shook his head. “We were going home, Opaline. I was going to make sure you returned safely before I left for Russia.”