Her parents hadn’t exactly been pleased with her determination to leave England at his side, but instead of arguing with her, they’d focused on devising ways to get him to stay. And oh, how she prayed one of them would work. Not for her own sake, but for his. So much of his life had been in chaos for the last year. He needed a resting place.

For that to be England, though, they had to clear his name. Which meant they needed the original photographs used to create the fakes.

Which meant, in turn, that they must find his brother and the Nadya woman. The admiral had his best people on it, so surely they’d soon be found.

In the meantime, Zivon.

She spotted him with Daddy and Hall, talking, gesturing, and she held back. Whatever they were discussing, she wasn’t going to intrude. Better to wait until they’d finished. So she slipped around them, thinking to get closer to the entrance he always used when he came and went.

So many times she’d come and gone on these paths too. With Ivy. With Zivon. With her parents. Was this the last time she’d walk here?

It should have been a sad thought. But when she blinked, she saw Ivy’s laughing eyes. Full of innocence. Full of mischief. Her sister would think this a grand adventure.

And she’d be right. Love always was. It would require sacrifice—but the best adventures always did.

Hurried movement caught her eye, stealing her focus from the future. She frowned when she realized it wasn’t a squirrel, but rather a woman who was even now rising from a crouch, swaying a bit on her feet, and pressing a hand to her stomach. Had Ivy done the same on the way home that day? Ill and desperate, but with no one to help her?

Her feet started her forward, even before the face registered.

She’d never seen it before. Not in person. But she had in a photograph—the one with . . . he keeps written on the back. The one with Evgeni in a crowd of Bolsheviks, smiling down at a smaller soldier.

Only this morning had she realized the recipient of his smile was a woman. This woman. Nadya.

Nadya. Here.

Lily glanced back over her shoulder. She was too far now from the men to get their attention quietly, though they might hear her if she shouted.

The woman would too, though, and would be gone before they could get here. Lord? What do I do?

Never in her life had she felt such clear direction in her spirit. It wasn’t a word, but it was an urgency pressing down on her. One that clearly said, Go.

She went, keeping enough of a distance that the blonde wouldn’t see her without turning around to look.