Page 10 of My Wild Horse King

“Do you want to go home?” Aleks whispers. “You can look for the journals, and?—”

“No,” Dad says. “I came to make sure you were alright. Johninsistedon it.”

Of course he did. He’d have come himself, if he wasn’t stuck in the hospital. “I should at least stop there.”

“I can go to America,” Aleks offers. “You can meet me there.” I can tell the offer pains him. Aleksandr hasn’t been great about letting me out of his sight for more than half an hour lately, and even knowing that Leonid’s powers, or any of their powers, can’t directly hurt me, he’s not taking any chances. “If that’s what you want.”

We argue back and forth as we walk back to the house, making no progress. I know John would come and check on me, whereas I’m positive Gustav wouldn’t. He hasn’t looked back once since leaving us. It would serve him right if his past came back to bite him on the backside.

Although, not if that bite kills him.

I’m leaning toward flying through Latvia on our way to America when we reach the kitchen. Grigoriy, Alexei, Mirdza, and Adriana are all staring at the screen. It always takes me a split second to switch gears into a new language after slipping back into Latvian.

But once the Russian clicks into place, I find myself staring, too.

A blonde woman with a frozen smile’s saying, “—reports of large-scale executions are unusual, but they’re only happening after purported trials. We should keep in mind that these executions are not like Stalin or Hitler—they’re criminals who are being punished rightfully.”

“Still, the reports we’ve received show that they’re not receiving what anyone could consider to be proper trials,” the man on the split screen says. He looks like he’s reporting from another country. “Are we sure those who have been executed are actually criminals? No reports or evidence have been made available in any of these cases.”

“The leadership was quite clear that they have seen the evidence and it’s incontrovertible. Those individuals whose lives have been terminated presented a clear and present danger to the safety of Russia. We’ve always known that our new leader had a tough stance on the Red Mafiya. He has a zero tolerance policy, and he’s promised to eliminate the crime syndicate in Russia within the year.”

I blink.

“Well, if that’s possible, it would be miraculous,” the man says. “But it hardly seems likely that?—”

“I spoke to His Majesty myself yesterday,” the woman says.

She does look a little unhinged.

“Oh?” the man asks. “And what did he say?”

“He promised me that by this time next year, I’d be able to walk the streets in my underwear without fear that anyone would threaten me.” She beams. “He said he intends to rid Russia of every single evil person residing within its borders.” She leans closer to the camera. “And you tell me, Filip, if you found a colony of cockroaches living in your house, what would you do?”

Filip looks nervous. He shakes his head, blinking.

“You’d exterminate them with extreme prejudice.” She nods slowly. “I can’t fault our new monarch for doing the same. This country is his home, and he means to clean it up.”

The screen cuts to a bizarre display of rainbow stripes.

“What happened to the feed?” Dad asks.

“Mr. Liepa?” Mirdza leaps to her feet—it still surprises me every time she does that, now that she’s healthy and hale—and spins around to face us. “Are you okay? Is Liepašeta alright?”

Dad waves his hands, telling her to sit. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you and Kris were alright. The news has been. . .alarming.”

“So youflewinto Russia?” Adriana tilts her head. “You should have stayed put.”

“Tell my daughter to call me occasionally, and I will.” Dad’s frowning now. He’s probably tired of being scolded like he’s a child. I suppose I can’t blame him for that.

“John had a heart attack,” I say softly. “I was going to fly through Latvia to see him, but. . .” I glance at the television. If Leonid’s executing people without real trials, I’m not sure I can delay going to see my brother. He deserves to know what type of person is coming for him.

“I told her to go straight to America,” Dad says. “I know you’re worried about Gustav.”

Mirdza and Adriana both glare. I can’t blame them. My dad has not, historically, been the most trustworthy. Spilling our plans to him wasn’t ideal. “He saw Aleks shift,” I explain. I fill them in on the existence of journals that are possibly still in the custody of a cousin in the United States.

“Or they were thrown out decades ago for sounding insane,” Adriana says.

“You can’t really expect people to believe any of this without seeing it first,” Mirdza says. “They probably thought their ancestors were profoundly crazy.” She cringes. “No offense.”

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