A memory now tangled beautifully with the night she met Zivon, when she’d told him about it. Another layer to the matryoshka doll. Lily nodded. “Of course. He said no navy man would let a few waves steal from his little girl.”

“That is how he’s always felt about you girls—that he ought to be able to move nature itself to protect you and see to your happiness.” Mama shook her head. “He thinks he’s failed. And it’s stolen the last bit of light from his eyes. Pray for him, Lily. Pray this doesn’t devour him.”

Lily’s heart clenched, not just at the thought of her father’s pain but at the realization that she hadn’t even noticed it. She’d been too stuck on her own.

No more. She nodded, more fiercely than necessary. The world may still look dark, but if photography had taught her anything, it was that there was always more light to be found. Sometimes you just needed to change your lens. And sometimes you needed a flash. Neither ever changed what was really there . . . but they showed it in a new way.

She’d always thought of that as art. But it wasn’t. That was life. And art was just the imitator.

24

FRIDAY, 19 JULY 1918

Evgeni crossed his ankles and tried not to laugh as Nadya made another fruitless attempt to shoo a few ambitious pigeons away from the crumbs that remained of her lunch. They’d decided to eat outside today, to escape the heat in their room. Even if it did mean keeping their conversation to French the whole time. He’d given her another quick English lesson too, before the pigeons fully distracted her.

“Mine.” She shoved the last bite of bread into her mouth and kicked at the birds. Not that they were within kicking range, of course, and they didn’t look intimidated. They kept on cooing and fluttering.

Evgeni gave in to the chuckle. “Perhaps they will go away now that the food is gone.”

“I doubt it,” she said around her mouthful, scowling at the birds. “Filthy flying rats.” She poked him in the side. “And I don’t know what you’re so happy about.”

He certainly couldn’t tell her that he found her frustration amusing. She’d gone three more times into Zivon’s flat but had found nothing, nothing of use to them. And after each of her dejected returns, he’d been exasperated too. Then Nadya left yesterday with most of their remaining money and had returned with a pistol. When he’d asked her where she’d gotten it, she’d merely smiled and assured him she’d been discreet.