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Ella’s fifteen trunks and her two were strapped to the top of the carriage. As silken wraps were
loaded into the interior, along with bolsters and pillows. They would ride straight through the night,
it would seem, and Tatiana glanced up at the driver who had drawn this thankless assignment. Filip
had kissed her forehead and departed. Serge had kissed Ella’s and followed suit.
And then, just as Tatiana had expected they would simply climb into the carriage, close the
doors, and roll through the gates, Ella had begun to think of a dozen things she had forgotten. A
special pair of shoes. Her Bible. Some sort of medication. A note for dear Granny, explaining her
abrupt departure. Another for darling Alix. For darling Alix must be made to understand. Ella
insisted upon personally viewing the food arranged for their trip, so the hamper had to be located and
unpacked. Unsurprisingly, she had been displeased with the contents. Another note, this one to the
kitchen asking for pate.
In short, the hour had chimed nine and they were still sitting in the pebbly courtyard, waiting for
Ella to finally proclaim them on their way. Why does she hesitate to leave the palace? Tatiana
thought. Is it merely that those born to privilege never develop a talent for doing anything quickly?
Or is something holding her here - some guilt or indecision masquerading itself as a request for an
obscure kind of pate?
The Grand Ballroom
9:10 PM
“But I want to dance first,” said Xenia, with a pout.
“My gypsy princess must dance last,” Tom said, still swirling his ridiculous cape and using his
ridiculous accent. The surveillance had gone well. He and Emma had made note of where each of
the imperial ladies would be entering the dance floor and the Scotland Yard team presumably had
explored the audience level in its entirety. Tomorrow they would enter the ballroom with far more
information in their hands.
“He’s right,” Emma said desperately. The child had gripped one of Tom’s arms and she had