She nods, slowly. “Yes. Because of… the house arrest.”
Her brow furrows, and she glances between us and Crispin in silent question.
“Indeed.” Silas’s voice is tight. “If you’ll excuse us, we need to get going.”
Ella regards us silently. “I see. Take care of my sister…gentlemen.”
I wonder what she sees when she looks at us. She looks down at her sister. “Try not to make it too difficult on her.”
Her tone suggests the opposite. It’s Rafe who responds, his voice cold. “The punishment will be fitting.”
And I see the way her lip curls. “I understand. I wish things were different.”
She doesn’t understand anything. But we turn our backs on them as Anastasia begins to stir. Her hand reaches for her head, and I glance over her auburn hair, matted and dull. Almost unrecognizable.
Yet this is definitely the Stasi we know. Her eyes blink open, hazy and unfocused as Rafe leans down. “Get up, Anastasia.”
Her eyes open further at his snapped command, awareness slow to seep back in as she shakes her head and then winces. “You’re… really here.”
She sounds out of it, and I glance at Silas. Jaw tight, he reaches down and grabs her arm, pulling her to her feet as she lurches. “Stay upright, or we’ll drag you.”
“No change there,” she mutters drowsily. But she takes a breath, her eyes clearing even as she clenches her jaw. Shepushes herself away from Silas. His hands twist into fists as he steps back, leaving her to manage herself.
She glances around at us, not bothering to look back at the royal couple. “You want me to walk, then lead the way. I have no idea where I’m going.”
Nobody else would see the hesitation in Silas’s frame. The way he flexes his hands, as though shoving down the urge to reach for her.
But he turns away, brushing past me. “Bring her.”
Rafe and I flank her as she shuffles forward. Small, wobbly steps hampered by the chains between her ankles. She doesn’t look at us. She just pushes forward, walking past the silent crowd with as much dignity as she can muster.
She has more than she knows.
We walk out of the room, the doors closing behind us.
Slowly, steadily, we move closer to the main palace doors. And the closer we get, the more Anastasia drags her feet. She stares straight ahead, and I glance down at the small, darkening marks on her face, courtesy of the baying mob on the way in. “That won’t happen again.”
The words slip out, and Rafe frowns at me over the top of her head. She laughs, although it’s more of a croak. “I don’t think even you can control that group.”
I consider the options. Assess how fast we might be able to move.
The chains on her ankles clink as if in response. I press my lips together.
Silas is already through, holding his hand up to us in a silent request, and we wait behind the doors as he barks orders. It takes a few minutes before his fist bangs on the wood in a signal. “Time to go.”
My fingers brush Stasi’s arm as I move to wrap my hand around her arm. But she flinches away from me.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
My tone comes out more irritated than I intended. She stands still as I steady her. “Not yet, you mean. Not until we’re behind closed doors, right?”
She sounds resigned.
Rafe clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Hurry up.”
I wait to see what she’ll do. If she’ll try to shrink away, try to get out of walking through those doors.
But Stasi has never acted the way we’d expect. So I shouldn’t be surprised when she throws her shoulders back, lifting her head up.
