Aunt Rashel.
The little sister, who had once been so close to Samara, before their relationship shattered.
She tried to use me....
That’s what Rashel had said when Nadia asked her what happened to break their bond.
Tried to use her for what?
To deliver a message, perhaps...
Nadia scooped up the egg and went looking for Rashel.
She wasn’t down in the kitchen as usual, or out in the gardens. She wasn’t even in Stanislav’s room—he lay alone on the bed, looking up at the ceiling.
At last Nadia approached the only place Rashel could be—her own bedroom in the very opposite end of the house.
Nadia knocked on the door, waiting a long time before Rashel said, “What is it?”
“Can I come in?” Nadia asked.
Another long pause.
And then Rashel said, “Yes.”
Nadia pushed open the door and entered the room.
It was smaller than Samara’s, and darker. And unlike Samara’s room, it hadn’t been stripped of personal belongings. Quite the contrary—the room still held all the childish toys and decorations it must have had since decades earlier.
There was a cabinet of dolls, neatly seated on their own little chairs. Several framed pictures of ponies and kittens. A vanity table, identical to Samara’s, but without any cosmetics scattered across its top, since Rashel never wore makeup. And a photograph of Stanislav and Anatalya, when they were young, stylish, and successful. There were no children in the frame. It must have been taken when they were first married.
Rashel watched Nadia look around the room, but her eyes kept darting back to the crimson egg held tight in Nadia’s hands.
She seemed to be waiting for Nadia to speak, but unable to bear the suspense, she blurted out, “Why did he give that to you? Why did he bring it here?”
“That’s what I came to ask you,” Nadia said. She took a step closer to her aunt, deliberately holding the egg in front of her so that Rashel took a step back toward the wall.
“What do you mean?” Rashel said, refusing to meet Nadia’s eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do,” Nadia said. “This egg used to belong to my mother. She had three: The Blue Swan, the Garden of Eden, and the Crimson Heart.”
“I told you,” Rashel said, shaking her head. “I never saw the eggs.”
“That’s a lie,” Nadia said flatly. “They were the greatest treasure of our family. They must have been on display all the time. Were you jealous that they were given to Samara?”
Rashel shook her head vigorously side to side, still refusing to look at Nadia or the egg.
“You knew Samara was in love with Zavier Markov,” Nadia said.
Rashel gasped, and her face turned paler than ever.
“The Markovs are our enemies,” she said. “They always have been.”
“But Samara loved him anyway. She wanted to run away with him.”
Now Rashel was angry, color coming into her cheeks in two bright spots.
“She wanted to destroy our family!” she cried. “She wanted to disgrace Mama and Papa and me!”
