She peers into my face with a mixture of confusion and what can only be described as adoration on her little face before she throws her arms around my shoulders and hugs me tightly. I’m speechless and in shock but I hug her back, feeling stronger and more confident. When she pulls out, she smiles at me.
“They’ve gone out,” she says.
“Oh, well then, just run and hide somewhere. Do you have somewhere safe you can hide?” I ask.
She nods. “Yes, there’s the old servants’ hatch. I’ve hidden in there plenty of times. But it’s okay, it’s just my mom.”
“Your mom?”
“Yeah. She’s not well. I’ll show you, come on. She’ll like you, I just know it.”
Eva pushes on the handle and the door opens inward, and then she pulls me in with her.
The room is much like mine, but it’s messier, with clothes and makeup thrown everywhere. The bed is unmade, and it doesn’t smell like anyone has cleaned in here for a long time. I don’t see anyone at first, and then a woman comes out of the bathroom, her long, flowing robe billowing behind her.
“Mom,” Eva says, still full of confidence, and yet she’s holding onto my hand tightly so I wonder if it’s all a show.
I see the blue eyes of Dominic staring back at me as the woman spins to look at us, her face spiraling through various emotions before settling on happiness.
“My little one,” she says to Eva and opens her arms wide.
Eva releases my hand and runs to her, and they hug for a good long minute in silence.
I feel awkward and want to back out of the room and give them some space, but I also don’t want to move in case I disturb them. It seems like they haven’t seen each other in a really long time.
Eventually the woman lets go of Eva and notices me standing there. She looks me up and down, assessing me from head to foot and making me feel incredibly uncomfortable standing there in only a robe.
Eva looks to me and then back to her mom. “It’s okay, Mom, this is Natalia.”
Her expression is full of anxiety now, sadness creeping into the edges of her short-lived happiness.
“You must be Eva’s mom. She’s told me so much about you,” I say, in the hopes of winning her over, because she looks like she’s going to flip out at any moment. “You’re just as beautiful as she described.”
The woman looks uncertain and then my compliment does what it always does to unstable women in power . . .
Eva’s mom smiles and relaxes. She turns, forgetting Eva is there as she assesses herself in the mirror.
“Eva, sweetheart, could you fix my hair?” she coos, and Eva nods.
“Of course, Mom.”
I watch as she picks up the hairbrush and begins to brush the knotty tangles, every tug making her more and more nervous.
I walk forward. “May I?” I ask, watching her mom in the mirror staring back at me. “It looks so soft,” I coo with a smile.
Her mom nods and Eva hands me the brush, and then I spend the next ten minutes gently brushing her hair free of tangles.
“I can never find anything to wear,” her mom complains, her beautiful blue eyes staring at me beseechingly. “I can never find anything in all this mess.”
I nod encouragingly. “Let me help you tidy and then we can find something pretty for you to put on.”
She smiles at me, her gaze straying to Eva, who’s now sitting on the bed, sketching again. “She thinks I’m mad,” she confides. “It’s because of what they did to me.”
My heart freezes in my chest and my hands stop working, a thousand and one awful thoughts moving through my mind.
Eva’s mom reaches back and takes my hand, guiding it toward the right side of her head. She presses my fingertips to her skull and I feel a small dent.
“The bullet just missed the really important stuff,” Eva says from the bed.
