Page 112 of Crowned

The ruby sparkles in the sunshine, a lavish, scarlet stone brought back to life with a little care and cleaning. I lay the antique necklace on the table and gaze at it.

Beautiful.

And quite a find. I bought this piece from an estate sale, sensing there was something special about it. I was able to discover from the maker’s mark that this piece was made in Germany in the nineteenth century, and with some cleaning up and a little repair work that’s still to be done, it will be fit for a duchess once more.

Viktoria is nearly one year old, and ever since having her, I’ve been thinking about my bloodline. The female line in particular, and the strength that’s been handed down to me from a long line of women stretching back into Russia’s history. I recall howBabulyasold her mother’s jewelry to keep us fed and warm when I was a child. With pain in my heart, I remember how I lost my mother’s locket down a drain because of my school bully.

I won’t have anything tangible to pass onto my daughter that belonged to the women of our family, but I can tell her about them when the time comes, and I can be a role model for her.

And so, I’m learning something new. I started reading about gems and the history of jewelry on a whim and found it fascinating how all the various precious stones in the world were made deep within the earth, lumps of colored rock that can be cut and polished into treasures. I bought more books and learned how to grade precious stones. I learned about the history of jewelry making, the types of metals and styles, what makes a piece valuable.

I started visiting antique stores and pawn shops with Viktoria in her stroller and discovered I have an affinity for antique jewelry. Pieces that remind me of Mom andBabulya. Beautiful pieces that I like to imagine once belonged to strong women. Every time I pick up a new piece, I wonder about its former owner and how she felt as she put on this pair of earrings or paired that necklace with her favorite dress. How much history she must have lived through. How much laughter. How many tears.

A few weeks ago, I remembered that I still possessed the locket that I purchased in Trieste when I was making the deal with the pawnshop owner to sell Konstantin’s diamonds. I was pregnant with Viktoria at the time. So early in my pregnancy that I was still coming to terms with her existence. I held the necklace up to the light, examining it, and found it was actually quite a beautiful piece.

This was the locket that fooled Dad long enough to cover up what I was really doing in the jewelry store.

Mom’s in this locket. So isBabulya, and so am I. It holds all our stories. This is a new family heirloom that I can pass onto my daughter. I cleaned it up and put photos of Viktoria inside, and now I wear it as often as I can.

Smiling, I gaze at the six antique pieces I’ve bought recently, cleaned up, and made minor repairs and changes to, all of which I will resell to high-end jewelry dealers for a profit.

There are four more broken pieces of jewelry that are waiting for me to fix them, but I don’t have the skills yet. I’ll need to learn silversmithing and goldsmithing first, and I’m already investigating courses I can take.

I’ve never had skills of my own before. I’ve never been allowed to be anything but a wife and a homemaker, but now I get to be anything I want. My men have been so supportive as well. Konstantin gave me a room on the second floor that I’m slowly turning into a workshop. Elyah loves to hear me tell him about what I’ve learned about precious stones and the history of jewelry. Kirill offered to steal some really beautiful pieces for me, and I burst out laughing before I realized he was serious. I made him promise not to do this because I want all my trades to be legitimate.

There’s movement from the hall, and I see that Kirill is lounging in the doorway, dressed in ripped black jeans and a tight black tee, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Are you busy?”

I glance around at my desk, checking that I’ve finished everything I wanted to do for the day. Viktoria will sleep for a little while longer. “I’m all done. Why?”

His smile widens. “Hide-and-seek.”

Kirill’s words send hot sparks through me. “Who’s hiding and who’s counting?”

“You’re hiding. I’m counting. One…two…”

I jump up from my desk, hurry past him, and run down the corridor. When I glance over my shoulder, I see he’s watching me go with his eyes wide open.

“No peeking, you cheater!” I call joyfully as I race up the stairs. My heart is pounding as I hunt along the next floor for a good place to hide. Kirill is way too good at sniffing me out, but I’m determined to outfox him one of these days.

What makes the chase even more delicious is the memory of the way he once hunted me down for real, covered in blood with a knife in his hand.

Maybe it’s messed up, but we like it.

I haven’t hidden in the walk-in closet in Konstantin’s room yet. It’s always seemed too obvious, but perhaps that might work in my favor today.

I hurry to the small room, lined with Konstantin’s suits and rows of polished leather shoes, and hide among the winter coats. The man has more clothes than the rest of us put together.

The door opens a moment later, and I hold my breath and try not to move.

Not fair, he found me so quickly.

“Solnyshko, it is me,” he whispers. “Are you playing with Kirill?”

I poke my head out and see Elyah standing there, dressed in a patterned shirt in soft colors, very much like the one he purchased with the intention of spilling coffee on as an excuse to be half naked in front of me. He looks mouthwateringly good in shirts like these, the fabric clinging to his muscles and bringing out the blue of his eyes.

Elyah sees me, then closes and locks the door behind him.

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