“But if the worst happens—if there is war—I need to know you are all right.”

“I’ll be fine—”

“Promise me that you will do the smart thing when the time comes, Sophie. That you will take care of yourself and not do anything foolish.”

“Piotr—”

“Promise me.” His demand was urgent.

Sophie bit her lip. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” Piotr rested his forehead against hers. “I didn’t really think you’d agree to go.”

“Good. I’m glad we got that settled.” The breeze gusted, and she shivered.

“May I at least take you inside and warm you up?” he asked.

“Mmm. I like that idea much better.”

Arm in arm, they started back toward the hotel. The dappled mare was cropping grass just ahead, her colt dancing in playful circles around her.

Sophie’s stomach growled. “What do you think the chances are we might find something to eat—”

The mare’s head came up abruptly, her ears pricked, her attention riveted in the direction of the hotel.

Sophie stopped, Piotr along with her, but she could see nothing in the shadowed carriage yard that might have alarmed the mare. In the street beyond, a dog started barking incessantly, joined by a handful more. Sophie frowned. The mare snorted and backed away, head high and nostrils flaring, before breaking into a canter toward the end of the pasture, her foal at her heels. And as the sound of the mare’s pounding hooves faded, Sophie heard the engines.

She didn’t understand where they were coming from at first. Her mind did not immediately register the high-pitched whine of rapidly descending planes until a flash of light in the southwestern sky caught her attention. She stared dumbly as the spots became larger and louder, approaching the village.

“Are those ours?” she whispered.

“No,” Piotr croaked.

The first bomb detonated somewhere in the center of the village, the muffled thump and roar followed by a series of explosions. Smoke and dust billowed into the air and still the planes came, the white-and-black crosses painted on the undersides of the wings now visible. More explosions followed, a never-ending string of destruction that shook the ground. And through that, the chilling sounds of rapid gunfire.

“They’re strafing the streets,” Piotr shouted, yanking Sophie forward. “We need to find cover.”

They ran from the pasture, Sophie’s heart in her throat and terror clawing at her insides. She scrambled through the pasture gate, scraping her hands on the wood. The hem of her dress snagged on a nail as the planes screamed their approach. Desperately, she yanked herself free and pushed herself away from the gate, breathing hard. Piotr was beside her, urging her to run faster. She had taken only two steps forward when the hotel abruptly disintegrated before her eyes. Stone was hurled into the air, and the force of the explosion threw her back against the gate and then to the ground.