realized. A palace that reminded her of the palazzos she had seen in Florence, Italy, when she and Felix had met Leonardo da Vinci. For a moment, Maisie worried that things had gone terribly wrong and sheâd somehow ended up with this steamer trunk and Fabergé egg in Florence.
The egg.
Maisie held it awkwardly in her hand.
This wonât do at all
, she thought.
She opened the trunk, and for an instant it seemed that the things inside shifted. Maisie blinked.
No, of course they hadnât moved. She scolded herself for her overactive imagination.
She focused her attention back on the trunk and found a piece of delicate white lace inside. Unsure what its real purpose was, Maisie took it out and wrapped the egg in it, tying the corners together to form a little bundle. At least it would be safer that way.
Again she turned her attention to the white stone palace.
Had she landed back in Florence?
But no, she decided. Although the enormous white mansion with the columns and balconies looked like it might be in Florence, there was also something very different here. For one thing, Maisie could smell the ocean in the slight breeze. For another, she could just make out high posts topped with gleaming gold eagles off in the distance. And there was so much land stretching out in every direction that Maisie felt certain the city of Florence was nowhere nearby.
In fact, as she dragged the heavy trunk toward the white mansion, she was confident there wasnât a city anywhere around here. The place felt serene, isolated . . .
royal
, Maisie thought.
âWould you like some help with that?â a girl asked.
Maisie looked around but saw no one.
The girl laughed.
âUp here!â she shouted.
Maisie turned her gaze upward until it landed on a girl with strawberry blond hair and a dirty white dress sitting on the high branch of a tree.
âHello!â Maisie called to her.
âHello yourself,â the girl said, cheekily.
Maisie knew that the royal family had loads of servants, and this girl in the dirty dress must be a servantâs daughter. Or perhaps a servant herself.
âSo, would you like some help?â the girl asked.
âYes!â Maisie said.
Maisie watched as she moved to a lower branch and swung from it to another and another until she dropped to the ground, almost directly in front of Maisie.
The girlâs cheeks were pink and her blue eyes shiny.
She bowed dramatically.
âAt your service,â the girl said.
âThanks,â Maisie said. âThis thing is heavy.â
The girl looked around. âWhereâs your carriage?â she asked.
âGone,â Maisie answered quickly.
âThe footman left without helping you with your trunk?â the girl said, disapprovingly.
Maisie shrugged.
The girl took the handle on the other end of the trunk and hoisted it up, grunting.
âWhat do you have in here? A body?â
âJust enough clothes to last a while,â Maisie answered.
âYouâre here for the opening party, I assume,â the girl said.
âYes,â Maisie said, searching her mind for where she might be.
Not St. Petersburg
, she decided.
It would be colder there. The Finnish coast? No. There would be a yacht, not a mansion.
She smiled to herself.
Crimea. Definitely. On the Black Sea.
âPeople are coming from everywhere,â the girl said, and Maisie detected a bit of awe in her voice.
âIâve come from America,â Maisie said, boastfully.
âAmerica!â
The girl paused to study Maisie.
âThey donât have royalty there, do they?â she asked, as if that was a very strange thing.
âNo. We have a president.â
âDoes he live in a palace?â the girl asked.
âNot exactly. He lives in the White House,â Maisie told her. âBut the White House is big.â Maisie laughed. âThough not as big as
this
white house.â
The girl was delighted with
The egg.
Maisie held it awkwardly in her hand.
This wonât do at all
, she thought.
She opened the trunk, and for an instant it seemed that the things inside shifted. Maisie blinked.
No, of course they hadnât moved. She scolded herself for her overactive imagination.
She focused her attention back on the trunk and found a piece of delicate white lace inside. Unsure what its real purpose was, Maisie took it out and wrapped the egg in it, tying the corners together to form a little bundle. At least it would be safer that way.
Again she turned her attention to the white stone palace.
Had she landed back in Florence?
But no, she decided. Although the enormous white mansion with the columns and balconies looked like it might be in Florence, there was also something very different here. For one thing, Maisie could smell the ocean in the slight breeze. For another, she could just make out high posts topped with gleaming gold eagles off in the distance. And there was so much land stretching out in every direction that Maisie felt certain the city of Florence was nowhere nearby.
In fact, as she dragged the heavy trunk toward the white mansion, she was confident there wasnât a city anywhere around here. The place felt serene, isolated . . .
royal
, Maisie thought.
âWould you like some help with that?â a girl asked.
Maisie looked around but saw no one.
The girl laughed.
âUp here!â she shouted.
Maisie turned her gaze upward until it landed on a girl with strawberry blond hair and a dirty white dress sitting on the high branch of a tree.
âHello!â Maisie called to her.
âHello yourself,â the girl said, cheekily.
Maisie knew that the royal family had loads of servants, and this girl in the dirty dress must be a servantâs daughter. Or perhaps a servant herself.
âSo, would you like some help?â the girl asked.
âYes!â Maisie said.
Maisie watched as she moved to a lower branch and swung from it to another and another until she dropped to the ground, almost directly in front of Maisie.
The girlâs cheeks were pink and her blue eyes shiny.
She bowed dramatically.
âAt your service,â the girl said.
âThanks,â Maisie said. âThis thing is heavy.â
The girl looked around. âWhereâs your carriage?â she asked.
âGone,â Maisie answered quickly.
âThe footman left without helping you with your trunk?â the girl said, disapprovingly.
Maisie shrugged.
The girl took the handle on the other end of the trunk and hoisted it up, grunting.
âWhat do you have in here? A body?â
âJust enough clothes to last a while,â Maisie answered.
âYouâre here for the opening party, I assume,â the girl said.
âYes,â Maisie said, searching her mind for where she might be.
Not St. Petersburg
, she decided.
It would be colder there. The Finnish coast? No. There would be a yacht, not a mansion.
She smiled to herself.
Crimea. Definitely. On the Black Sea.
âPeople are coming from everywhere,â the girl said, and Maisie detected a bit of awe in her voice.
âIâve come from America,â Maisie said, boastfully.
âAmerica!â
The girl paused to study Maisie.
âThey donât have royalty there, do they?â she asked, as if that was a very strange thing.
âNo. We have a president.â
âDoes he live in a palace?â the girl asked.
âNot exactly. He lives in the White House,â Maisie told her. âBut the White House is big.â Maisie laughed. âThough not as big as
this
white house.â
The girl was delighted with
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