Read Online The Tsarina's Legacy by Jennifer Laam - Free Book Online Page B

weight of his presence. Behind her, the girl who had dropped the cookies earlier was kicking the back of Veronica’s seat. “Don’t do that to the lady,” she heard the father say weakly.
    Longest flight ever.
    â€œAnd transportation?” Michael said. “She needs to move safely from place to place. The Society wasn’t supposed to publish pictures before her position was clearly established.”
    â€œHow do you know this?”
    â€œMy grandmother was one of Empress Alexandra’s servants. My mother still has connections with the old monarchist groups.”
    â€œYour mother. Right.” Dmitry’s hand tightened in and out of a fist as he waited for his tablet to power up. “I travel with Dr. Herrera and when possible we hire car to avoid metro.”
    â€œHave you screened the drivers?”
    â€œI can assure you she is to be well protected.”
    Finally, the kicking subsided. But two women in the back of the cabin began the loudest Russian conversation Veronica had ever heard, something about a cheating husband caught in the act and a night spent in jail. Right now she didn’t need any more drama. Veronica reached for her phone and earbuds. She wanted to close her eyes and disappear into a new wave playlist. She had compiled a soothing soundtrack for the trip, musical comfort food from high school: the Cure, Depeche Mode, and Erasure. So much better than listening to Michael and Dmitry fuss at one another.
    â€œWho do you think leaked the article about Veronica to the newspaper?” Michael asked.
    â€œIt could be anyone.”
    â€œAnyone in the Monarchist Society? So you don’t have control over your own people?”
    Veronica was about to press play when she saw Dmitry open his fist, something in his palm twinkling in the high sunlight. “I assure you Dr. Herrera is to be perfectly safe.”
    â€œWhat are you holding?” Veronica asked curiously.
    Dmitry opened his hand wider, revealing a tiny red jewel.
    â€œIs that a ruby?”
    â€œIt is embarrassing.” He smiled sheepishly. “This has been in family for good luck; I get nervous flying. I need it today.”
    Veronica touched the cross on her necklace and returned his smile. Michael gave her a guarded glance. Did he think she was flirting?
    Dmitry deposited the ruby back into his pocket and tapped a few notes on his tablet. He wore khaki trousers and a fresh white button-down shirt that looked strangely crisp for someone who had spent the past few days trotting around the globe. “I hope you will not mind a few difficult questions.”
    She put the earbuds away.
    â€œI am to serve as your advocate in process. So I need to be sure we are clear on facts. Society wants to present clear narrative to connect your grandmother to Nicholas and Alexandra.” He inclined forward to address Michael. “You understand this, of course?”
    Michael scratched the back of his neck and reached for a copy of the in-flight magazine from his seat pocket. “Of course. Pretend I’m not even here.”
    â€œYou say Laurent Marchand is father,” Dmitry began.
    â€œLaurent Marchand is her father,” Michael answered for her.
    Veronica frowned at him, then drew in a breath of the artificial cabin air. “I believe that man is my father, yes.”
    â€œLaurent is son of Charlotte Marchand, who claimed to be Grand Duchess Charlotte, secret fifth daughter of the tsar. But you never met Laurent?”
    Veronica looked out the window at the red-orange mounds of the desert below them. Her mother had been in one of Laurent’s classes, alone and vulnerable in Spain as a foreign exchange student. He never bothered to try to find Veronica. She thought she had formed a thick wall around her heart when it came to anything related to her father, but it still hurt. Wounds heal, but the memory of pain lingers.
    When she turned away from the window, she caught