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“Well, that went as good as we could expect,” Francine said once they were out of earshot.

Alex frowned. “They do ask ridiculous questions.”

“Of course, they want to catch you out.”

“Of what?”

Francine shrugged. “Whatever they think will make a headline.”

“Well, the incident should be enough.” She sighed. “Let’s just get going, shall we?”

“You sure this is what you want?”

Alex stopped and turned back to her. “You know it’s what we have to do.”

“I know, but still, there could be a way around it. I could talk to—”

“No, I want to finish this off and move forward with the plan. More now than ever.” Her phone ringing in her pocketcaught her attention, and she reached into her pocket for it, her face grimacing when she saw the caller ID. She held the phone up for Francine, and the American stepped back.

“I’ll leave you to deal with the Tsarina.”

Closing her eyes and composing herself, Alex watched Francine walk away, and then she answered the call.

“Mama.”

“Alexandra, are you alright?” Her mother’s voice sounded concerned, and she was reminded that despite her mother’s standoffishness, she did love her. “I saw the news.”

“Yes, Mama, I think it was just a prank, but you know how seriously everything gets taken.”

“When they want rid of you, they find a way, Alexandra.” By “they,” she meant the KGB, the elusive men and women who would swoop in and remove the person they felt would damage the Empire.

“I don’t thinktheyare out to get me, Mama.”

“Nobody ever does,” her mother said dryly.

“Yes, Mama.”

“And this new woman. She is very beautiful. Francine picked well; the press will eat her up.”

“I—actually, she isn’t a prop for the press. I like her.”

Her mother was quiet for a moment before she asked, “Do you write music for her?”

The answer wasn’t quite so simple. She had composed something, but it didn’t feel done quite yet. There was so much more she could write, wanted to write. But to her mother, she simply said, “Yes.”

“Hm, bring her to dinner when you get home. Stay safe,umnitsa.”

Alex smiled at the term of endearment: a good girl, a clever girl.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, Morgan felt guilty at the missed calls and pressed the button that would call her mother.

“Morgan? Are you alright?” her mother’s worried voice said quickly. “It’s all over the news.”

“I’m fine, Mum, there’s nothing to worry about.” She winced at the little lie and caught the raised brow from Alex and the warm smirk that accompanied it. It was a conversation not too dissimilar from her own earlier. Maybe they weren’t too different, despite the age difference.

“Not a nice thing at all,” her mum said sharply.

“No, it wasn’t, and I’m sorry I didn’t return your call sooner. It’s been a little bit…hectic.”