I don’t ask who she means by we. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the secret society that my mother and grandmother were a part of doesn’t take kindly to answering questions.
I grip and regrip the piece of wood. Splinters bite into my hands, and I welcome the pain.
“Leave,” I say.
“Grace, we need to talk.”
“Leave!” I repeat. As if I’m in a position to give orders.
“I came alone,” she says. I glance down at the plane that bobs on the water near the rocks. “There’s a pilot, but, don’t worry—he will remain with the plane. I came alone. For you.”
I start toward the woods, skirting the tree line and walking along the rocky shore. I have to lead her away from the boys. I have to—
“Gracie!”
I skid to a stop just as my name echoes through the air. Someone bursts from the trees.
“Grace!” Alexei is out of breath, and I know it’s not because he’s been running. It’s because he’s terrified. “A plane is circling. We’ve got to—”
I turn, and he follows my gaze to the woman in white.
“Alexei,” she says, and something in the word stops me. He’s supposed to be the most wanted man in Adria—a murderer. A fugitive. But the prime minister isn’t shocked to see him. She is anything but afraid.
Alexei couldn’t care less. He never takes his gaze off her as he tells me, “Gracie, come over here and get behind me. Now.”
“Don’t be silly, young man. I’ve come a long way to see Grace. Now, who is going to take me to Jamie?”
On our way through the woods, we climb down steep ravines and over muddy trails, but the prime minister doesn’t complain. Neither does she try to talk to Alexei. He keeps his head down, leading the way, almost like he’s trying to outrun something that he can neither see nor name. But I know better. There are some ghosts that live inside us, and we can never lose them, no matter how far we run.
When we come around the edge of the cabin, I hear the cocking of a gun. I don’t bother to turn, but I can see Jamie out of the corner of my eye. The shotgun is heavy, I know, but he’s found an untapped reservoir of strength somewhere and both barrels are steady as they stay trained on the prime minister.
“What are you doing here?” Jamie practically growls.
“Hello, James,” the PM says, then slides her gaze to me. “My, what a family resemblance.”
“Stop!” Alexei yells, spinning on her. “Stop your lying. Stop … Go away. Go back.”
“Alexei,” she starts, but then seems to realize he’s not her ally here. She has no allies. No friends. But she still has a mission, and when the woman speaks again, she very much resembles the most powerful woman in Adria. “Gentlemen, I need a word with Grace. Alone.”
“I don’t know how you found us, but we’re not—”
“It’s okay,” I say, cutting Jamie off. It’s not that I trust her. It’s that, so far, there are no black helicopters on the horizon, no SWAT teams bursting through the trees. If the prime minister wanted us dead, we would be, and all of us know it. She certainly wouldn’t have come herself and risked getting blood all over her pretty white suit.
“I’m fine,” I tell the boys. They don’t try to stop me as I lead the PM into the cabin.
It’s dusty and dim inside. Three rooms with a roof and a generator and a well for running water. It’s not much else, but it’s home. For now. I try to put on my best Ms. Chancellor smile. I ask myself, What would Noah do?
“Would you care for some tea?” I ask, and the PM smiles.
“That would be lovely.”
I can hear Jamie and Alexei pacing across the porch while I boil the water and steep the leaves.
They might be outside, but the door is open, so the PM doesn’t say a word. I learned a long time ago not to ask questions that no one is going to answer, so I don’t ask again why she’s here. I don’t demand details about who’s been trying to kill us. Or why.
“It’s not that good, but it’s hot,” I say as I hand the prime minister one of the mismatched cups.
“Lovely. Perhaps we can enjoy it outside?”
When we step onto the porch, my brother and Alexei glare at us, but neither says a thing as the prime minister of Adria and I wrap our hands around our steaming mugs and walk toward the trees.
The sun is higher now, but it still doesn’t burn through the fog or lighten the gray. Inside the cover of the trees it might be dawn or dusk or the middle of the day. It doesn’t matter. The clock is the same in any case, and it simply reads, Time’s up.
We walk in silence. Whatever brought the most powerful woman in Adria to the other side of the world, she isn’t in a hurry to share.
Overhead, birds squawk. If the fog would clear, we might see whales breaching in the rough waters in the distance. But we stay shrouded in our cloud cocoon.
“I’ve not seen this part of America before.” The prime minister brings the hot tea to her lips and takes a sip, careful to avoid the chipped section of the old cup.
“Few people have,” I say. “That’s kind of why we chose it. You didn’t tell me how you found us.”
“You’re right—I didn’t.” She takes another sip of tea. “You can’t run forever, Grace.”