Something about her tone made Maria stop and wait for the answer.

Stepan sighed heavily. “There was a satchel with a bottle of Mama’s elecampane mixture inside and a wooden duck that Papa made for us when we were children.”

Maria’s heart started thumping so hard she thought it must leap out of her chest. Katya’s satchel had been found. But where?

“Perhaps she dropped the satchel that night and it got tangled up with someone else’s remains,” Ludmilla suggested.

Remains? Maria couldn’t stand to hear this. She cupped her face in her hands, fingers over her ears, but did not move from the spot. Her legs had turned to stone.

“The fisherman who pulled her up said the satchel was diagonally across the skeleton.” He gave a little sob. “She must have fallen through the ice after the bombing that night. A friend of Mama’s also disappeared.”

Maria’s eyes filled with tears. It was clear now what he was saying.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” She heard Ludmilla’s voice comforting him, then Stepan gave another sob.

“My beautiful little sister,” he croaked before his voice became muffled, and Maria guessed Ludmilla was hugging him.

She should open the door and go into the kitchen so they could mourn together, but something stopped her. Suddenly she realized she had known all these years that Katya was dead. Deep down she had never believed she would find her, just as she did not believe she would ever find Tatiana. They were gone. She hoped Katya had been with Peter in heaven for the ten years since she had died.

“There will have to be a funeral,” Stepan said, struggling to control his emotion. “It will be desperately hard for Mama. No parent should have to bury their child.”

Maria tried to imagine what a body would look like after all those years in the water. Bones, just bones. That was not her daughter. She believed Katya’s soul had left at the precise moment of death. The skeleton was just a relic.

“Does she need to know?” Ludmilla asked. “Maybe it would be easier for her to carry on thinking there is hope.”

“Do you think so?” Stepan asked.

Maria considered this. She felt weary. She did not have the energy for grief. Her sorrow for Katya had been spent all those years ago. What if they simply didn’t tell her and she pretended she didn’t know? Except she would know. She had always known.

Treading carefully to avoid creaking floorboards, she turned and tiptoed back to her room and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She said prayers for Katya, imagining her with Peter in heaven. Her Romanov family had not known either of them, but she was sure they would have been welcomed into the fold.