The photo was there, with her camera, as always. Not the original, of course—that was safely pinned to her wall at the OB. But when she’d made a copy for Zivon, she’d made a second for herself.

He’d given her his heart when he gave her that photograph. She wasn’t about to go anywhere without it.

When she pulled it out, Nadya snatched for it, but Lily held it back, away from her. Let her see it without touching. “A trade, I said. Now, let me in.”

Her mouth set in a firm line, Nadya backed up a step. “You will regret coming here, English girl.”

“Funny. I was going to say the same thing to you.”

“Nadezhda?” A second voice came from within, hoarse and faint. “Who’s there? What . . . ?”

Evgeni. And he sounded ill. Sliding the photo back into her pocket, Lily pushed Nadya aside and strode into the room. A sweeping glance of the place showed her a tiny kitchenette, a table for two with matching rickety chairs, a small shelf with one book on it, and a narrow bed.

That was where Evgeni was. Pushing himself even now to a sitting position, confusion on his face.

Lily rushed to the bed. “Evgeni. I have been praying for you. The flu?” She perched on the side of the bed and pressed a hand to his forehead.

Cool, praise God.

His gaze went from her to Nadya. “Who is this?”

Lily gave him a smile. They looked nothing alike, these brothers. Not in coloring or the shape of their faces or their builds. But the eyes. The mouth. There she could see it. “Lily Blackwell. I’m going to marry your brother.”

For a long moment, he studied her. Perhaps trying to ascertain whether it was true. Perhaps something else altogether. Then his gaze moved to Nadya. “You knew? About her?”

Nadya crossed her arms over her chest. “I told you, Zhenya. I will fight for our family. Not his.”

“Your mistake, Nadya, is that they’re one and the same.” Lily reached for Evgeni’s hand and checked the pulse in his wrist. “They’re brothers. You can’t ignore that. Can you, Evgeni?”

He said nothing. But his mouth turned up into a bit of a smile. Zivon’s smile.

Nadya stepped closer. “Give me the photograph.”

“I will. And you’ll give me Zivon’s album.”

A beat of silence. Then a terrifying click. “How about this for a bargain? You give me the photo now and I won’t kill you.”

Lily looked over to see a pistol leveled at her head. She should have panicked. Screamed. Dove for cover. But the blanket of peace wouldn’t lift. And so, somehow, she smiled. “You won’t kill me. If you do, you’ll never get out of England. They’ll be looking for you at every port, every station.”