The Russian Cage

by Charlaine Harris

  Some time later we were at the border. As they had when I’d come into the Holy Russian Empire, the police had us all get out and checked our identification.

  The man who took our passports, a naturalized American with a Russian accent, looked down at Eli’s identification and said, “Prince Savarov!”

  Everyone within hearing froze and gave us a big stare. I could have smacked the guard.

  “Eli Savarov is fine,” my husband said calmly.

  But the damage had been done.

  “And you are?” the guard said, turning to me.

  “This is the new Princess Savarov,” Eli said.

  “Ah, that explained the name,” the guard said, beaming at me. “Well, young sir and madam, I knew the prince’s father, and he was a fine man.”

  Could not have been worse. I felt Eli freeze beside me as the man got all talky about Eli’s father and how wonderful he’d been.

  “But I am chatting too much,” the guard said, way too late. “You must be tired. Have a good evening, you two!” He beamed at us, which made it even worse.

  We got back on the train to find the beds had been made up. I would have liked to watch the process out of curiosity, but any interest I had was quenched now by the way the other passengers were looking at us. I had to ask Eli how we got into the bed, and he gave me my bag and told me to go down the car to the bathroom and change in there.

  “I don’t have a robe or nightgown,” I whispered.

  “I’ll bet you money my mother put those in your bag,” he said, smiling.

  And he was right. I had a pink nightgown and robe folded neatly on top of my clothes. I cleaned my teeth and face and took care of the bathroom situation before I went back to him. It felt real strange to get into our bed, especially since I had to take one of my guns in with me. I wasn’t about to sleep without a weapon when we were so accessible. The curtain across the bed kept anyone from seeing us, but that was the limit of our privacy.

  The mother and Pamela had already climbed up into their bed above us, and I didn’t even get to see how they did it. I wondered how they’d get down in the night if they had to go to the bathroom. I was grateful that wasn’t my problem. Though it might be, if their feet landed in our faces.

  Eli parted the curtains and slid in beside me. The fit was snug. I was glad we were both slim. There were plenty of people still moving around, and the perpetual sound of the train, but Eli still whispered when he said, “Our first night as newlyweds, Lizbeth.”

  “Our first night as Russian Orthodox newlyweds,” I said, and even my whisper sounded tart. “To me, we been married since Dixie, at least mostly.”

  He chuckled right in my ear, slow and low, and then we were both asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Pamela’s mom was raising her to be frank and open, so after the girl would stare at us a while, she’d pop out with “Why do you have scars?” (That was directed at me.) Or “Why is your hair long like a girl’s?” (To Eli.) Her mom kept saying she was embarrassed, but she didn’t do anything about it. Pamela’s manners had not gotten any better by the time we parted ways the next day.

  I didn’t mind a question or two. But one question led to another, every single time, and I never knew when Pamela’s brain would start firing. It was hard to read a magazine or talk or think with the girl around. We got off the train in Albuquerque around noon the next day. Went right to the ticket window and found out our best route was a train leaving for San Angelo in Texoma, but we’d have to spend the night in Albuquerque to catch that one the next morning.

  We found a hotel close to the station, got a room, celebrated being married (finally), and then cleaned up and walked around the town. We ate enchiladas and beans and rice in a little restaurant where my Spanish came in handy. We had on the heaviest clothes we had. Albuquerque was real cold.

  Next morning, we had breakfast at the hotel and trudged back to the station with all our stuff. While we waited inside the little station for our train, I saw something go by the window. “No,” I said, real soft. “It can’t be.”

  “What?” Eli was all alarmed.

  “Look,” I said, very quietly, so I wouldn’t interrupt it.

  “At what?”

  I pointed at the window.

  It was snowing.

  He looked at me like I was trying to play a joke on him.

  “Have you never seen snow before?” Eli asked.

  “I never have.” I went out on the platform. He followed me out and put his arm around me. We watched in silence for a few minutes.

  “I arranged this just for you,” Eli said.

  “Generous of you.”

  “Anything for my solnyshko.”

  “You’ve called me that before. What does it mean?” I was ready for it to mean something sly, like rabbit or something.

  “It means sun,” Eli said.

  Took my breath away, so I didn’t say anything.

  “And you would call me what?” he asked, after a moment.

  I could tell from his voice that he expected me to make the joke, call him my eagle or my big gun, something silly.

  “My moon,” I said. “You’re my moon.”

  We watched the snow until our train came in.

  The leg of our journey from Albuquerque to San Angelo was horrible. No sleeping car, so we sat up all night. This train was old and worn, and nothing was as comfortable. At least Pamela wasn’t there. I fell asleep against Eli’s shoulder, which was bony and hard and not a good pillow… but it was Eli’s shoulder. When I woke and shifted, he slept on me for a while.

  I was able to send my mother a telegram about when we’d arrive in Sweetwater, though I had no certainty she’d get it before we reached Segundo Mexia.

  But when we stumbled off the train at the Sweetwater station, there was my family.

  “Mother, Jackson,” I said, hugging them with a lot of love. “You remember Eli, I know. Look!” I held up my hand with the ring on it.

  My mother fixed Eli with a look that would have killed a lesser man, but Eli was up to it. “We are married very thoroughly now,” Eli said, with a lot of charm. “Lizbeth told me we were married—pretty much was the phrase she used—here in Texoma. But my mother wanted to be sure Lizbeth couldn’t get rid of me.”

  My mother smiled, because she couldn’t help it. “Then I am glad to welcome you into our family,” she said. She gave Jackson a real heavy look.

  “Me too,” Jackson said, just a little late. “You be good to Lizbeth, or I’ll kill you. If she doesn’t first.”

  I had to laugh. He absolutely meant it.

  Eli said, “If I mistreated Lizbeth, I would deserve it.”

  I smiled down at my feet.

  Jackson had recently bought a car he kept at the stable and often rented out. (If he wasn’t using it, someone else might as well, he figured.) He’d driven it to the train, and we were able to stow our bags in the trunk and fit comfortably in the back.

  The drive from Sweetwater to Segundo Mexia wasn’t a long one, but we both fell asleep.

  “We’re home,” Jackson said, and I opened my eyes. We were at the base of the hill behind Segundo Mexia. My house was close to the top.

  Eli and I shouldered our bags. I hugged Jackson and my mother, told them I’d see them later. Eli said, “We’ll talk soon,” and that seemed to satisfy my mom and stepdad.

  “You got him out of jail,” Jackson said. “I’m proud of you, Lizbeth.”

  “I got a lot of your money left,” I said.

  Jackson just laughed and put the car in gear.

  Up the hill we started. It was the middle of the afternoon. Chrissie was hanging out her wash, which was a never-ending task with her husband, the two boys, and the baby girl. She paused when she saw me, and she smiled, a breeze fluttering her blond hair across her face.

  “Ray said he heard on the radio that some big Russian royalty got shot,” Chrissie said. “I figured that was you. Glad you got away with it!”


  “Glad to be home,” I said. “Chrissie, this is Eli. We’re married now.”

  Chrissie clapped her hands. “That is wonderful news! He’s the right one, aren’t you, Mr. Eli?”

  “I am definitely the right one,” Eli agreed, while I went up the last few feet to my front door and unlocked it. Everything was fine, which I had figured, since Chrissie—and everyone else on the hill—kept watch while I was gone.

  I hadn’t known how long I’d be gone, so my refrigerator was empty, and I had nothing to eat.

  “After I have a nap, I’ll get groceries,” I said. “And I reckon we need to get a new bed pretty soon.” We’d slept on my bed before, but we’d known it was temporary. It was a real basic bed, and not nearly wide enough.

  “We will do all this together,” Eli said.

  “Okay. Yes.” The cabin felt cold, so I started up a fire in the stove, moving stiffly. I had an indoor bathroom, and it worked well now that the water system had new pipes. I had a hot bath and put on my pink nightgown again. Pink. Well, it had probably suited Veronika.

  I dimly heard Eli splashing around in the bathroom, and then he was in bed with me. I was on my side so I could put my arm over him, and he wiggled his back to me. I kissed his back. I didn’t know how we could make this work, but we were both going to try.

  We’d be okay if the tsar kept his word to us.

  And if no one else—besides the people of Segundo Mexia—figured out it was me who’d shot the grand duke.

  And if Felix didn’t go nuts with jealousy.

  “I think we got as good a chance as anyone, Moon,” I said.

  “I think so, too, Sun.”

  And we slept.

  More from this Series

  An Easy Death

  Book 1

  A Longer Fall

  Book 2

  More from the Author

  Dig Here

  MatchUp

  Seize the Night

  Inherit the Dead

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHARLAINE HARRIS is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has been writing for over thirty years. She was born and raised in the Mississippi River Delta area. She has written four series and two stand-alone novels in addition to numerous short stories, novellas, and graphic novels (cowritten with Christopher Golden). Her Sookie Stackhouse books have appeared in thirty-five different languages and on many bestseller lists. They’re also the basis of the HBO series True Blood. Harris now lives in Texas, and when she is not writing her own books, she reads omnivorously. Her house is full of rescue dogs.

  FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR:

  SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/Charlaine-Harris

  SimonandSchuster.com

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  ALSO BY CHARLAINE HARRIS

  Gunnie Rose series

  An Easy Death

  A Longer Fall

  A Novel of Midnight, Texas series

  Midnight Crossroad

  Day Shift

  Night Shift

  A Sookie Stackhouse Novel series

  Dead Until Dark

  Living Dead in Dallas

  Club Dead

  Dead to the World

  Dead as a Doornail

  Definitely Dead

  All Together Dead

  From Dead to Worse

  Dead and Gone

  Dead in the Family

  Dead Reckoning

  Deadlocked

  Dead Ever After

  The Complete Sookie Stackhouse Stories

  The Sookie Stackhouse Companion

  An Aurora Teagarden Mystery series

  Real Murders

  A Bone to Pick

  Three Bedrooms, One Corpse

  The Julius House

  Dead Over Heels

  A Fool and His Honey

  Last Scene Alive

  Poppy Done to Death

  All the Little Liars

  Sleep Like a Baby

  A Lily Bard Mystery series

  Shakespeare’s Landlord

  Shakespeare’s Champion

  Shakespeare’s Christmas

  Shakespeare’s Trollop

  Shakespeare’s Counselor

  Harper Connelly Mysteries

  Grave Sight

  Grave Surprise

  An Ice Cold Grave

  Grave Secret

  Standalone Novels

  Sweet and Deadly

  A Secret Rage

  The Cemetery Girl Trilogy (with Christopher Golden)

  Cemetery Girl: Book One: The Pretenders

  Cemetery Girl: Book Two: Inheritance

  Cemetery Girl: Book Three: Haunted

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by Charlaine Harris Schulz

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Saga Press Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

  First Saga Press hardcover edition February 2021

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.

  ISBN 978-1-4814-9499-1

  ISBN 978-1-4814-9501-1 (ebook)