Page 147 of Shadowfox

“Oh, yeah. Totally.” I nudged his foot with mine. “So, out with it. What’s got you so deep in thought this early in the morning?”

“You think you know me . . .” He turned, a coy grin on his lips. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“I do. Better than anyone. Now talk before I tell everyone you secretly like to cross-dress as Eleanor Roosevelt.”

That earned another laugh, this time, a real one born somewhere deep in his belly. For the briefest moment, we were back in Paris, sitting at a table outside a café, just two men enjoying the morning and a wonderful, breathless love.

“Come on, Ellie, out with it.”

“God, I hate you.” He snorted and shook his head. Then his features smoothed, and all humor drained from his face. His eyes drifted to the far side of the barn, to a barren board where light peeked through. When he spoke, I could barely hear his words. “We can’t leave the machine to the Russians. You’re in no shape to do anything about it, and Sparrow is . . . Egret would never let her go, even if he’s too pigheaded to admit to the world how much he loves her. That leaves him and me.”

“Will—”

“Thomas.” His use of my name startled me into silence. “It has to be this way. I have to go. Egret can’t do this alone. At least, he shouldn’t have to, not when there’s another trained operative who can help him. This mission is too important to leave to chance. Two spies doubles the odds, whatever they are.”

In that moment, the pain in my shoulder vanished. More likely, I quit caring about it, because a far deeper, far more primal pain swelled within me.

“Absolutely not. Will . . . just . . . no. You can’t go, damn it. You can’t . . . you can’t leave me.” My last words were so choked I felt them break in my mouth, break like the heart in my chest, the one that I hadn’t felt beat since he’d spoken his plan aloud.

He scooted so we faced each other and took my hands in his. His eyes were so wide, so full of . . . Gods, he was tearing up. I felt wrecked. This couldn’t be happening. The Soviets would be swarming every corner of Budapest. They would have our images, our identities. They would be on the highest of alert, and when Stalin leaned into something, no one could escape his grasp.

If Will left, he would never come back. I knew it. I just . . . I just knew it.

His hand found my face, as it so often did, and I leaned into his touch.

“Iwillcome back. I promise.”

The first tear fell, but I dared not release his hands to wipe it away.

“Why are you crying?” Eszter’s voice cut through the barn like a songbird trilling at dawn’s light. Neither of us had heard her stir or pad over to where we sat. How much had she heard?

We both turned, each of us blinking our own emotions away, swallowing them down.

“It’s nothing,” I lied. “Just . . . my shoulder. Emu was adjusting my bandage.”

“Your shirt is still buttoned, and you’re under a blanket,” she said.

Why did this girl have to be so damned smart?

My head drooped in surrender. Will reached out and gripped her shoulder. I expected him to say something about the sun coming up or getting breakfast or anything to distract this single-minded miniature human.

Instead, he chose the path of truth. “Do you know what your father’s machine does?”

She squinted, thinking, then nodded, “Of course, I do. It is Enigma, only better.”

Holy hell, she knew the name Enigma. What child . . . the child of an inventor, of course. I almost laughed. The whole thing was implausible.

“And do you know how important that is? How one country might use it against others?” Will persisted.

Eszter thought a moment. “It would let whoever has it know what everyone else is saying. That’s what Papa says.”

“And do you think that’s important?” Will asked.

She nodded.

“So do the Russians. In fact, it’s so important they kidnapped you and tried to force your father to complete his work and give it to them.”

Her face screwed up, and then . . . she laughed. It was the tinkling of a tiny bell that bounded against the wooden walls. Sparrow and Egret turned. Farkas stirred, sitting up to find his daughter.

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