The city of Rajalla rose out of the valley like a flotilla of crisp white sailboats tossed about on an ocean of green and winter-gray. Lily’s spirits lifted as she stood on the bluff overlooking the city and took in the sight of the cobblestone streets packed with horse-drawn carriages, small, sputtering cars of indistinguishable origin and vendors pushing carts filled with wildly blooming flowers, hand-painted pottery and fresh meats from local farms.
She’d always loved Rajalla. The people were friendly. The city was chock-full of ancient buildings, beautiful architecture and quaint shops. The smattering of cultures formed an interesting melting pot of languages from all over Europe—German, French, English and several dialects of Rebelian. Lily had loved the bustling confusion, the old-world charm, the beauty of the countryside upon which the city was nestled.
All of that had changed since DeBruzkya’s soldiers had moved in. Most of the restaurants and cafés had closed. Many of the buildings were damaged. There were a lot more funerals.
But while the war might have damaged the city, she thought, it had done nothing to dull the spirit of the people. Some of the buildings might lay in ruin, but the city had already begun to rebuild. The church in the southern sector sported a new bell tower. The rococo fountain in the town square had been repaired. No, she thought, DeBruzkya and his war machine might be able to damage wood and brick and concrete, but they could never take away the spirit of the Rebelian people.
Lily knew that beneath the old-world charm and friendly smiles, the freedom movement thrived. The thought gave her a smidgen of satisfaction because in her heart she knew that one day DeBruzkya would fall. She only hoped it didn’t come too late.
Trying not to think too hard about the role she would play, she looked down at her child, felt the familiar swell of love in her chest. He’d improved throughout the early morning hours. He’d taken half a bottle of milk and an entire jar of pavio and pois—turkey and pea baby food manufactured and packaged right in Rajalla. His color had returned to normal, and he’d been chattering for the last hour. Realizing how lucky they were, she pressed a kiss to the top of his head and thanked God for taking care of them.
“This way.”
She jolted at the sound of Robert’s voice. Turning from the vista, she risked a look at him, felt the now familiar tug of an emotion she refused to identify. He looked haggard, a little dangerous and more handsome than any man had a right to after what they’d been through during the long night. She wondered if he’d gotten any sleep. Wondered if he was as troubled—as scared—as she was.
“What are you looking at?” he asked nastily.
“I was just admiring your scowl.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“Yeah.” She knew he wasn’t happy with her, but there was no way she could turn her back on the Rebelian people now. She wished she could make him understand. Wished she could convince him that once this beautiful country was liberated, when her people were free and her children safe, then she could fly to the United States and they would live happily ever after.
Taking her time, she walked over to him. Snuggled against her abdomen, Jack kicked his legs and chattered. She stopped a foot away from Robert, aware that he was watching her closely, that he looked cautious and edgy and tired as hell.
He glanced at Jack, and his expression softened. “I can carry him for you.”
“It’s all right.”
“I want to.”
Realizing belatedly that Robert wanted to carry his son, she unfastened the carrier straps and passed Jack to him. Her stomach fluttered when he grinned at him, then brushed his mouth across Jack’s forehead. She knew it was stupid to read more into the moment than was there. Lily could lie to herself until she was blue in the face. But deep inside she knew it wasn’t simple affection she saw in the vivid blue depths of Robert’s eyes, but love.
The realization of what she’d allowed to happen struck her like a well-aimed kick. Aware that her chest was tight, that her mouth had gone dry, she watched him heft the carrier onto his back and adjust the straps to fit his larger frame.
“We’re going to have to be careful,” he said. “Rajalla is crawling with soldiers.”
“I know, it’s just that—” She broke off, embarrassed because her emotions were spiraling out of control. She wasn’t sure why, but she suddenly felt uncertain and overwhelmed and more afraid than she’d been in a long time.
She walked a short distance away and looked out over Rajalla. “I love this place,” she said, struggling not to cry. “It’s hard to believe someone would want to destroy it.”
She heard Robert come up behind her but she didn’t turn around. “This isn’t your war to fight, Lily.”
“It wasn’t Strawberry’s war, either.”