“We’re gonna do a three-way call with my grandparents.” She wasn’t looking at me then; instead her eyes searched the screen as her hands went to her mouse and keyboard.

“What?” I asked, feeling self-conscious. I ran my fingers through my tangles of hair and hoped that my eyeliner hadn’t smudged too much since I put it on that morning.

Hanna was already calling—I heard the da-da-da of the ringing—and I glanced back at the blankets and pillows I’d mashed up behind me. I wondered if there was time to straighten up, but then there they were.

The video changed, becoming a split screen with Hanna and little Niko on the right side, and her bewildered but smiling grandparents on the left. The box where I could see myself got slightly smaller, tucked away in the corner.

Johan looked older than his wife; his thick hair and beard were only slightly blacker than they were silver. Sarina had long, fine hair in a rich maple color, and she was slender with intense dark eyes, giving her a brittle edge. Her smile was so tentative and fragile, like a bubble about to pop. The low resolution and Johan’s beard made his smattering of freckles on his tawny skin hard to make out, but they were there, the one noticeable feature he shared with both his late son Nikolas and Hanna.

“Oh, there you are!” Sarina sounded delighted as her smile deepened.

“I told you it wasn’t that hard,” Hanna teased.

“We managed it,” Johan said with a low rumble of laughter.

“Who is that little guy?” Sarina asked, and she wagged her fingers at Niko after he waved. “Liam?”

“Niko,” Hanna said.

Sarina’s smile went tight when she said, “They grow so fast.”

“I talked to Grandma after we talked before.” Johan put his hand on his wife’s arm and gave her an encouraging smile. “She remembered more than I did.”

“Johan’s always struggled with recollections of his youth,” she clarified sadly. “He doesn’t have any memories of the time before Nikolas was born.”

“That sounds rough,” I said.

“It’s all I’ve known,” he said, giving his wife a loving look. “And Rina helps me remember.”

“Johan told me everything that you talked about, but I didn’t really understand what your intent is,” Sarina went on cagily. “What are you trying to find?”

“Her parents and our friend Eliana,” Hanna answered before I could.

“And how does that connect to a children’s story that your grandfather wrote decades ago?” Sarina asked.

“Johan wrote about Jem-Kruk and Senka,” I told her. “I met someone called Jem-Kruk who knows our friend Eliana and her twin sister, Illaria. I went to Sweden to meet with Indu Mattison—”

Sarina’s eyelids fluttered; the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly at the mention of Indu’s name.