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Interlude

Tatiana: Alexei and his bodyguard

Alexei’s violent coughing had led to hemorrhaging in his groin. He lay in bed, in excruciating pain, and there was nothing anyone, including the doctors, could do.

As he moaned and cried, Mama sat with him, never leaving his bedside.

It had been almost six years since he’d had a bout this bad.

Deverenko was beside himself. The man who had been responsible for getting Alexei to wear all the various encasements he’d needed throughout his life wore a look of such utter despair that Papa gently suggested he leave. Most of the encasements, made of leather and canvas, to support Alexei’s legs, arms, and body, were now too small for his growing body.

Alexei had always fought them, insisting that they didn’t help, but we all knew that was just his stubbornness coming out. Like Anastasia, he had always had a mind of his own, and for days, I had expected that willfulness to surface.

But it hadn’t.

Once Deverenko and Papa left, it was just Mama and I, sitting at his side. A basin of melted ice rested in my lap, along with strips of cloth, freshly torn from our most threadbare clothes.

Mama pulled one of the rags off Alexei’s feverish face and set it aside. She rested her fingers atop his forehead, sweeping the strands of sweat-soaked hair aside.

I dipped a fresh strip of cloth into the chill water, gave it a squeeze, and handed it to Mama.

“I would like to die, Mama,” Alexei said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m not afraid of death.”

Mama’s hands froze mid-motion. Mama’s hands, unfailingly steady through years of Alexei’s illness, trembled now. She set the rag atop his forehead as she shushed him.

His eyes had become enormous in his head as his fever had thinned him and turned his skin yellow. He blinked his eyes open, holding her gaze with his own.

“Mama, I’m so afraid of what they may do to us.”


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Framed