Excerpt of The Russian Cage by Charlaine Harris

          I got handed off from one blue-suited woman to the next. They always murmured to each other, as though I was a parcel destined for one person. I was supposed to pretend I didn’t hear this. Wasn’t any point paying attention to the words; what was interesting was the language. All the inside servants spoke Russian. I was sure some of them had been wandering around with the tsar and his court until Nicholas had received the invitation from William Randolph Hearst.

          My stepfather had read me pieces in the newspapers about Hearst’s land in California and the place he was building on it. During their extended stay at the Hearst Ranch in the largest guesthouse, the tsar and his family were enchanted by the opulence, if not by the isolation. It was like things used to be, on some level, for the royalty, who’d been close to starving at points in their long journey.

          And when Hollywood had discovered how excited people got by newsreels of the Russian royals, how the two remaining unwed grand duchesses and the tsar-to-be were fascinating to all Americans, it had seemed almost natural (when California had broken off from the USA) to ask its resident royals in exile to step in and be royals in residence once more.

          The death of Nicholas and his state funeral had been the subject of every newsreel and on the front page of every newspaper for days. Rasputin had been alive then. In every picture of the new tsar, the magician had been a few steps behind, his beard streaked with white and his steps a little uncertain.

          I had plenty of time to remember all this. Felt like I could have walked home to Texoma in the time it had taken my guide to lead me to the room where the tsarina was.

          I’d assumed Caroline would be by herself. Not only was the tsarina surrounded by the same ladies who had been with her this morning (now all wearing different clothes, sure enough), but there were even more. They were all seated in chairs dotted around the salon-type room. They were all admiring the performance of a children’s choir.

          The first person I saw standing in the front row of singers was my little sister, trilling away in a clear soprano.

          I was startled on a lot of fronts. I hadn’t known the Rasputin School had a choir. I hadn’t known my sister could sing. And I sure hadn’t known the choir would be here today. It seemed like a massive coincidence. I hardly ever believe in coincidences, massive or tiny.

          I was ushered to the back of the group of woman, where a few men had been shunted, too. My guide murmured, “When the children have sung, I will let Her Imperial Highness know you have arrived.”

          I nodded and gave my attention to the children. Felicia spotted me after another minute, and her whole face lit up. The people in front of me turned a little to discover whom the smile was aimed at, and I beamed back at Felicia so they’d know. I was proud of my little sister.

          When the singing was over, Felicia came over to me as quickly as she could, considering that everyone rose and started milling around at the same moment. She had to stop every foot or so to accept compliments and to curtsy, which was something I would never in my life have believed Felicia would learn to do. When she threw her arms around my waist, she said, “Where’d you get the dress? Why are you here?’

          “Saved the tsarina,” I said, as low as I could and still be heard. “She got attacked this morning.” It was a time to explain the attack had been a setup by Felix to maneuver me into the presence of the tsarina, who was now obliged to me.

          “That was you?” Felicia looked up at me, her face alight with so many things. Triumph, pride, and the other shoe dropping, primarily.

          I nodded. “I got to go present myself,” I said, and took her hand. We went to the knot of women surrounding Caroline, who was wearing a real pretty blue dress that matched her eyes and some diamonds that sparkled like water. Of course, her blue dress was in no way the same blue as the women attendants.

          The ladies parted like the Red Seat as I approached. Caroline was looking straight at me and Felicia, and she was mighty curious.

          I had no idea how to do this, but I bowed as low as I could, and Felicia curtsied and then stood straight. “Your Imperial Highness,” my sister said, “this is my half sister, Lizbeth Rose.”

          “We met this morning,” Caroline said, and the ladies managed to produce a little gust of laughter.

          “I’m glad I was there to help, but I also came on an errand,” I said.

          “Please explain, I’m so interested,” Caroline said clearly, and I understand that she wanted me to speak with the same volume and clarity. Caroline wanted me to explain my goal, for whatever reason, all over again.

          “My friend Eli Savarov in in jail here. His mom has no idea why. I’d sure like to visit him. I’d like to get him out even more,” I said. I’m sure everyone in a ten-foot radius heard me.

          “I had no idea that was the case,” Caroline said, still at a good volume. “I’m appalled to hear it. What are the charges?”

          “Ma’am, I was hoping you could tell me.”