by Ann Hood
“Darling,” a man said gently, “Mama is resting. And so is Alexei.”
A knock sounded at the bedroom door, and when Maisie called, “Come in,” the man who had escorted her downstairs earlier entered.
He had a tray with a bowl of steaming soup on it and a glass of tea. Maisie remembered that Alex Andropov’s grandmother had served tea that way too, in a glass instead of a cup.
“A little soup always nourishes the sick,” the man said.
When he placed the tray on the table beside the bed, a sour smell floated toward Maisie.
“What kind of soup is this?” she asked, trying to sound polite.
“Cabbage,” the man said, smiling, as if that were the best soup in the world.
Maisie nodded, but didn’t pick up the silver spoon that rested beside the bowl.
“We haven’t met properly,” the man was saying. “What with the blessing and then your accident . . . well, it’s been a little busy around here.”
“Maisie Robbins,” she said. “Phinneas Pickworth is my—”
“Yes,” he said, “Sunny told me. We adore Phinneas. Such a character! Such . . . such an American!”
What an odd thing to say, Maisie thought.
“Well, Maisie, eat your soup and rest up. And please forgive Anastasia. She’s a bit rambunctious, that’s all.”
He turned to leave, but Maisie said, “But you haven’t told me who you are.”
The man laughed.
“Why, I’m the Tsar. Tsar Nicholas,” he said shyly.
“You’re the Tsar?” Maisie said, shocked.
He stood no more than five feet eight, and had such a shy, sad smile and such gentle eyes that she couldn’t imagine why anyone would fear him or want to overthrow his government.
“I’m afraid so,” Tsar Nicholas admitted.
“Of all of Russia?” Maisie asked.
He laughed again. “All of it,” he said.
“But you’re so nice!” she said. “I thought Tsars were tall and fierce.”
Tsar Nicholas considered this.
“I suppose some have been,” he said, finally.
Maisie’s mind was racing.
“Then that beautiful woman with the auburn hair is the Empress?” she asked, just to be sure.
“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” he said softly.
“This wasn’t at all what I expected,” Maisie said, thinking of Bolsheviks and conquering Tsars and all sorts of scary things.
“That’s good,” the Tsar said. “I think?”
“Oh yes,” Maisie said. “It’s good.”
“Now you must get better,” the Tsar said as he headed toward the door. “Next week is Easter, and you don’t want to be stuck in this bed during Easter, do you?”
It must have been a rhetorical question because he left without even pausing for Maisie’s answer.
Felix recognized the chubby girl with the strawberry blond hair and blue eyes immediately.
“Grand Duchess Anastasia,” he said, and gave a curt bow.
Anastasia giggled.
“Felix Robbins,” Felix continued, liking the way her face lit up when she laughed.
“Oh!” Anastasia squealed. “You’re Maisie’s brother!”
Her demeanor changed quickly.
“Don’t be angry at me,” she said. “Please, please, please.”
Angry? Felix thought. He didn’t think he could be angry with this girl. Something about her made him just want to grin.
“I didn’t know she was so clumsy,” Anastasia said, her voice stubborn now. “I didn’t make her climb that tree.”
“Maisie is okay, isn’t she?” Felix asked.
“Oh no!” Anastasia said, and burst into tears.
“Isn’t she?” Felix asked again.
“It’s her fault! I swear to you!”
And at that, Anastasia placed her hand over her heart dramatically.
Then she laughed again.
“It’s just her arm,” Anastasia said, dismissively.
“Broken?” Felix asked with dread.
“Not even! She’s absolutely fine. By Easter she’ll be . . . she’ll be climbing trees again!”
Felix sighed with relief.
Then a thought came to him.
“When’s Easter?” he asked.
“Next week, silly!” Anastasia said, linking her arm through his. “Come on now. I’ll bring you to this invalid sister of yours.”
Despite her relief at seeing Felix here, Maisie was not happy to see Anastasia this time.
“I can’t believe you let me go,” she said, angrily.
“I can’t believe you couldn’t climb even one branch,” Anastasia countered.
“Maisie cannot climb trees,” Felix said, laughing softly. “At all.”
Maisie glared at him, her relief at finding him in front of her safe and fine fading.
“Whose side are you on, anyway?” she demanded.
“Side?” Felix said. “I didn’t know there were sides. I just know that you don’t know how to climb trees—”
“See!” Anastasia said with so much delight that Maisie glared harder. “It’s all your own fault!”
Maisie closed her eyes.
“I need to rest,” she said. “The Tsar insists.”
Anastasia laughed at that.
“That’s Papa!” she said. “Tsar Nicholas II!”
“Anastasia!” Grand Duchess Tatiana said from the doorway. “Mama would not like to hear you bragging like this.”
Anastasia’s cheeks blushed pink.
“I wasn’t bragging,” she muttered. “Governess,” she added under her breath.
Tatiana tugged playfully on Anastasia’s hair.
“That old nickname is not going to upset me, Malenkaya,” she said.
“I’m not little.” Anastasia pouted. “Don’t call me that.”
Felix studied Grand Duchess Tatiana. Tall and slender, she had such grace and poise that he found himself speechless beside her. Speechless in a different way than Anastasia made him feel.
“Papa wants to be sure our guest has eaten all of her soup,” Tatiana said, crossing to the bed.
She glanced down at the tray.
“Why, you haven’t even touched it!” she clucked. “And now it’s gone cold.”
Tatiana picked up the tray and said, “I’ll bring you a fresh bowl.”
“No!” Maisie said, half-sitting.
Tatiana looked surprised.
“I mean, no thank you. I just want to sleep for a bit.”
Maisie would have liked to tell Felix that the soup was cabbage soup and therefore disgusting, but he wasn’t even looking at her. Instead, he was gazing at that horrid Anastasia.
“All right, then,” Tatiana was saying. “Then we’ll leave you for a bit.”
“Felix,” Maisie said. “I do need to tell you something.” She shot a look at Anastasia. “In private,” she added.
“What?” he asked, even though they were most definitely not in private.
Maisie beckoned him to come close.
“What?” he asked again, closer but still in earshot of Anastasia.
“I need to whisper it to you,” Maisie said, frustrated.
Anastasia said, “Telling secrets in front of others is rude.”
Felix hesitated, but Maisie yanked him nearer.
“The Empress has the egg,” she whispered.
“The Empress has—” he began.
“Ssshhh!” Maisie hushed.
“But why does she have it?” Felix whispered back.
“It doesn’t matter,” Maisie said. “You have to find where she put it and take it back.”
“I’m leaving right now,” Anastasia announced.
/> “I’m coming!” Felix said quickly.
But Maisie held on to his arm.
“Promise?” she said.
“Okay,” he said, shrugging her off.
“Do you want to write a play?” Anastasia asked Felix. “Then we can perform it for Mama and Papa.”
“Yes!” Felix said, ignoring Maisie’s attempts to get his attention. “I love writing plays.”
“I have the lead in the school play,” Maisie said.
But Tatiana was already out the door, and Anastasia had linked arms with Felix again and was babbling about her big idea for a play, and Felix was nodding his head like a bobblehead doll.
“The lead!” Maisie shouted after them.
Anastasia turned toward Maisie ever so slightly, and—Maisie was certain—smirked at her!
“Hey!” Maisie said as Anastasia pulled the door firmly shut behind her.
“Harumph,” Maisie said, snuggling deeper into the fluffy white duvet.
She did not like Anastasia Romanov. Not one bit.
Much later that night, Maisie was awoken by a sound.
“Psssstttt.”
Maisie pulled the duvet up snugger around her.
“Psssstttt.”
What was that noise?
She opened her eyes and found the room swaddled in darkness. Except the light from the full moon that came in one window.
“Psssstttt,” she heard again.
The sound was coming from the closet.
Maisie frowned.
“Maisie,” came the voice from the closet. “Can you open the door? There’s no handle in here.”
“No,” Maisie said, trying to sound brave even though she was trembling, “I will not open the closet and let a stranger out.”
“I’m not a stranger,” the voice said.
“Go away!” Maisie shouted. Panicked, her eyes searched the dark room for a weapon of some kind.
On the wall hung an ornate religious picture made of silver. It looked heavy enough to bop someone on the head good and hard, Maisie decided.
“Maisie,” the voice said again.
As quietly as she could, Maisie inched her way off the bed.
“Ouch!” she blurted, forgetting how badly her arm hurt.
“Your arm?” the voice said.
How did this person know about her arm?
Maisie tiptoed over to the wall and, with her good hand, lifted the picture from its place there. She looked down into the face of a holy-looking woman holding a baby, blue jewels sparkling in halos above their heads and Cyrillic letters written beneath them. To her satisfaction, the picture was pretty heavy.
“Maisie?” the voice said again.
“I’m coming,” Maisie said, hoping her voice didn’t betray her fear.
How did a person get into the closet in the first place? And how did the person know her name? Something was very weird here.
Although it hurt a lot, she turned the knob of the closet door with the hand of her sprained arm, and lifted the icon up high with her good one.
She heard a rustling from the closet, and then a figure stepped out into the dark room.
Maisie brought the icon down as hard as she could on his head.
With a loud grunt, the figure fell to the floor.
Shaking, Maisie looked down into the face of Alex Andropov.
Chapter Seven
EASTER
“Alex Andropov!” Maisie gasped.
“Why did you hit me?” Alex groaned, rubbing his head.
“I didn’t know it was you hiding in my closet,” Maisie said.
Alex grinned up at Maisie.
“I knew when you spoke perfect Russian that there was something peculiar going on,” he said.
“Of course, I had no idea you were . . . time traveling,” he added, his eyes sweeping over the room.
“But how did you get here?” Maisie asked, still not quite able to believe that Alex Andropov was standing in her room at the Livadia Palace.
He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.
“Your trunk,” he said, obviously proud of himself.
Maisie remembered how the things in the trunk had appeared to shift when she’d opened it earlier. She remembered how heavy it was when she’d dragged it here. Alex had been inside the whole time.
“I got a little worried when that maid wanted to unpack it for you,” Alex chuckled. “But when she showed you to the bathroom, I climbed out and hid. Just in the nick of time, too, I might add.”
“But you’re not a Pickworth,” Maisie said, confused.
“What’s a Pickworth?”
“Phinneas Pickworth collected all of the items that allow us to time travel,” Maisie explained. “But you need to be related to him in order to do it.”
Alex shrugged. “Well,” he said, “here I am.”
“And you have to be a twin!” Maisie said, even more confused.
“Well,” Alex said again, “I’m not.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Maisie insisted.
“You hit me with a religious icon, you know,” he said, pointing to the silver icon Maisie still held. “Probably a very valuable one, too.”
Alex stood at the window and stared out.
“We’re at the palace in Livadia, aren’t we?” he asked, his voice soft and reverential.
“Yes,” Maisie answered.
Slowly, he turned to face her.
“I can’t believe they were in here. Anastasia and Tatiana. And the Tsar himself.”
“And I can’t believe you’re in here,” Maisie said, unhappily.
Alex sat on the edge of the bed, looking thoughtful.
“Tell me,” he said. “Do you just come here? Is that why you speak Russian?”
Maisie didn’t feel like explaining The Treasure Chest to Alex. In fact, she didn’t feel like talking to him at all.
“It’s complicated,” she said.
“Can you try to explain?” he persisted.
“Later,” she said. “For now, my arm hurts and I’m supposed to have it elevated.”
“But where should I go?” Alex asked.
“How should I know?” Maisie snapped. “You’re not even supposed to be here!”
Thankfully, Felix knocked on her door just then.
“Who are you talking to in there?” he whispered.
He opened the door and started to enter the room. But as soon as he saw Alex Andropov, he stopped in his tracks.
“What are you doing here?” Felix said, his eyes wide with surprise.
“He hid inside the trunk!” Maisie said.
Alex grinned at Maisie and Felix.
“And he’s not even a twin,” Maisie said, “never mind a Pickworth!”
Felix closed the door behind him.
“I guess he’s stuck here now,” Felix said.
“Stuck?” Alex said, his eyes bright. “I’ve never been so happy in my life! I’m in my homeland, with my ancestors!”
“Take him to your room,” Maisie suggested. “I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“But how will I explain who he is?” Felix asked, exasperated.
“No need for you to explain anything,” Alex said. “I can explain my lineage to the Tsar myself. I will be welcome here as a Romanov.”
Felix was considering something. Maisie could tell by the way he scrunched up his face.
“You know,” he said, “somehow James Ferocious came back with us from Amelia Earhart’s—”
“Amelia Earhart!” Alex interrupted. “So you time travel everywhere?”
Maisie waited for Felix to answer him.
But Alex kept talking.
“Have you met Julius Caesar?” Alex asked eagerly. “King Tut? George Washington?”
Felix ignored him.
“I never thought about it before, but technically James Ferocious shouldn’t have been able to come back with us. I mean he’s not a Pickworth.”
“That’s true,” Maisie said.
“But when I tried to bring Lily Goldberg with me, it didn’t work,” Felix said, remembering when he took Lily up to The Treasure Chest.
“There’s something we don’t understand, then,” Maisie agreed. “Because James Ferocious is at Elm Medona, and Alex Andropov is right here, right now.”
“Yes, he is,” Felix said.
Alex puffed his chest out, obviously delighted with himself.
“Well,” Maisie said, slowly, forgetting for an instant about the problem of Alex Andropov. “We brought James Ferocious back with us. Like when we got back from Hawaii, I found a seashell in my pocket.”
Felix nodded, thinking hard.
“Alex was in the trunk,” he said. “I guess that’s all it took.”
Maisie looked sad. “If we had known that, we could have taken Great-Uncle Thorne with us.”
“Enough!” Alex said angrily. “Take me to the Tsar.”
“Now?” Felix asked. “It’s the middle of the night!”
“I’ll tell him I just arrived,” Alex said.
Felix sighed.
“I’ll bring you to Olga. She’ll know what to do,” he told Alex.
Maisie watched Felix and Alex leave. Then she got back in bed. But she couldn’t go to sleep. She stared at the full moon hanging over the Black Sea until dawn broke, and finally, sleep came.
Olga seemed taken by Alex’s story. “A long-lost cousin!” she said with delight.
But she refused to bother Papa with it that night. Instead, she showed Alex to a guest room, and brought him down to breakfast with her and the other Duchesses the next morning.
When Alex explained to the Tsar over breakfast who he was related to, the Tsar jumped to his feet and wrapped Alex in a big bear hug. Soon, Alex was joining the entire royal family on their morning swim in the sea.
Almost the entire family.
For most of that first week, Felix did not see the Empress or little Alexei, the Tsarevich. When he asked Anastasia about them she grew evasive.
“Oh, Mama likes to spend private time with him,” she’d say.