Page 66 of My Wild Horse King

Kristiana cringes a little. “Dad says he actually called the lady once—our, like, second cousin or something.”

Oh, no. Dad calling someone is never good.

“At first she insisted that she wasn’t even a Liepa. She said her name wasSaddler, but I guess she finally relented and said her dad’s name was Liepa.”

“So where is she?” Kris has always known how to bury the lead.

“Some place called Manila, Utah,” she says. “It’s on the border of Utah and Wyoming in a town of like, four hundred people.”

“How fabulous,” Adriana says.

“Actually, it is good,” I say. “I doubt Leonid would ever think to look for us there.”

Aleksandr’s money comes in handy again when we pay cash for a new Escalade and load all our stuff into it. Aleksandr heads for the driver’s side, but I step in front of him.

“Whoa, you don’t even have a license here.”

“My license from Russia?—”

“Is probably pretty expired, given that it’s now two thousand and?—”

“I got a new one.” He scowls. “Move.”

“Hand me the keys,” I insist.

“Oh, just give him the keys,” Kristiana says. “If we sit in the back, I can take a nap on your lap.”

“I call the middle,” Alexei says. “Come on.” He’s hopping into the middle seats before I’ve even taken the keys.

“No way.” Mirdza huffs. “Why do we always get split up and you two always wind up sitting together?”

“We’re trading seats at the first gas station.” Grigoriy doesn’t ask. He just climbs into the back, grumbling.

Which leaves Katerina and me to load all the luggage. “Go up there,” I say. “It’s fine.”

But she doggedly stays back with me, hefting huge rolling bags into the trunk.

“Are you sure you’re fine to drive?” Her voice is soft. “It’s late, and you haven’t been sleeping much.”

“You’ll stay awake and talk to me?”

She nods. “Sure, if you want me to.”

I’m surprised, but after this long, bizarre, not encouraging day, I actually do want to talk to her. That may be the oddest thing that has happened yet.

18

KATERINA

Within half an hour, every single member of the happy couples club is asleep. Two of them are snoring, and I can’t even tell which ones it is from the front seat.

“Everyone jumps on you a lot.” Gustav’s eyes are on the road, but his tone is light. Actually, it’s not just light. It’s something I haven’t felt in a while.

It’s kind.

“I deserve it.” I keep my eyes trained on the road ahead, too.

“I’m not sure that’s true,” he says. “I wasn’t lying about the white lights. I’ve seen a few people since that weird dark and light thing kicked in. Everyone has some darkness, but yours is very, very small.”

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