I couldn't help smiling when I saw the mound, still intact and hidden by trees. I sent the orb into the tunnel and crawled in after it. As I settled on the edge of the sleeping pallet, I sent the light up to perch on one of the ledges. The heater wasn't on, and I didn't know how to start it, but it was still warmer in there than outside. I took off my cloak, folded it beside me, and waited.
It wasn't long before I heard movement outside the tent. I hadn't realized how worried I was until I saw the top of Konstantin's bright head coming through the tunnel. He lifted his face, spotted me, and grinned.
“Here.” He passed me his satchel. “The book's inside.”
I fished out the book and opened it as he sat beside me. “It's a collection of historical Larch art.”
“Yes, I saw that.” He leaned over to open a panel on the tent wall and press a button.
A soft whir started and hot air blew in through the lower vent. Konstantin leaned on his arm behind me, nestling his chest against my back, and propped his chin on my shoulder. I settled back against him as I started flipping pages.
“We should start with the pictures and look for anything unusual,” he said.
“Agreed.” I flipped faster.
We looked at every picture in that book, but nothing stood out as strange to either of us.
“Okay, let's try this again.” Kon flipped back to the first page. “I've been trained to scan for information, so you read the captions while I skim the rest of the page. Look for anything relating to the Lebedevs.”
I nodded.
An hour later, I was starting to sag against him, my eyes drooping.
“Maybe we should call it a night,” Konstantin said.
I straightened immediately. “No! We need to find our next lead.”
“All right, swanling,” he purred in my ear. “We'll keep looking.”
“Kon.” I turned to face him.
“I know.” He brushed his lips over mine. “I'm worried too. But it will be all right. I won't let anything come between us.”
Oddly enough, that reassured me. I believed him now. Had faith in him. Kon would find a way to free me. “Okay.”
I went back to reading the captions below each picture, and he went back to scanning, but when he tried to turn the page, I stopped him.
“Hold on.”
“What is it?” He read the caption aloud, “'Flight of Majesty by L.L. Rubinoff. Portrait of King Luka Lebedev.' Okay, what am I missing?”
“LukaLebedev,” I said.
“Yeah?”
“I've never heard of a King Luka. Niko's father was Grigori.”
“Oh, that's interesting.” He peered at the picture. “That's Larch Castle, I recognize the turrets, so this isn't a painting from your home planet.”
“No, it's not,” I said as a trembling started deep inside me.
“Damn, that's one white swan.”
“They're usually painted white when the rest of the picture is so dark. It helps draw focus to the Larch. But in this instance, it's either grossly inaccurate or it's the clue we've been looking for.”
“The swan is white,” he whispered in revelation.
“Yes.”
