George was there right away, quickly untying the rope that bound her hands.
"I'm all right. Please see to Alexei first," she told him through chattering teeth.
"He's fine. Maddy's with him." Anastasia glanced over at her brother and saw that her friend was there, untying the rope from around his wrists.
"My God, how could anyone do this to you?" George's voice was soft, incredulous, as he tenderly rubbed the skin of her wrists where the rope had chafed.
"It's my fault." Anastasia struggled to get the words out around the sobs in her throat. "I knew what he was, but I listened to him anyway. I could have gotten Alexei killed. I could...have gotten...my brother...killed...again."
"No, no, sweetheart, it wasn't your fault." George's voice was soft, soothing, as he gently touched her chin. "You're a kind, honest person who treats others fairly, so of course it's only natural for you to assume that others you meet will be the same, and you're usually right, but not always."
"How'd you find us?"
"When the phone rang and caller ID showed your number and I called back and got no response, I realized that you must be in trouble. The police were able to trace the location of your cell phone."
"Madison?"
"I knew that you were out with Gregory so I was really worried about you. After a few hours I called George to see if he had heard anything from you. He told me about the weird phone call and said that he was waiting to hear back from the police. I went to his apartment and we came down together."
"Ross-Peyton wasn't Gregory's real last name," Anastasia said softly.
Madison looked bewildered, but only for a moment. "I knew it!" she said triumphantly. "My grandfather told me all about him when I was younger. He said that my great grandfather always hated him for what he was doing to your family, and to Russia."
"None of it would have happened if not for him," Anastasia said bitterly.
"You know what, Stacy?" George was untying the rope from around Anastasia's ankles now. "For a long time, I used to tell myself that if it hadn't been for Jane Seymour and her family, what happened to Anne and myself would never have happened. It took me a long time to figure out that the Seymours weren't the only factor in what happened, or even the main one, necessarily. When something like that happens, there are usually a lot of factors involved, so it's very hard to say that just one person or event is to blame. I'm not trying to defend him, only to make you feel better."
"I never thought of it that way before," Anastasia admitted. "George, I really am sorry for what I said before. I am your girl. That is, if you still want me to be."
George was finished with the rope. He gave Anastasia a look that couldn't have been more tender, more loving.
"Of course I do, sweetheart." He sat on the edge of the car's back seat, cradling her in his lap. "I love you, Anastasia."
Suddenly she was tongue-tied. "I...I..."
"It's all right, sweetie." His lips touched hers, softly, sweetly. For the very first time. "I know."
Safe and warm in George's embrace, Anastasia remembered the music box song, envisioned the prancing horses, and felt a deep calm replacing the cold fear that had gripped her so recently. She wasn't sure that she entirely understood what was happening, but she knew one thing. It was magic.
"Looks like your brother's made a new friend."
Anastasia looked at Alexei and Madison, who were chatting together as if they had known one another for years.
"I would ask you out on a date, except I'm not old enough to drive for two more years," Alexei said apologetically.
"That's all right. I can drive."
"But isn't the boy supposed to be older than the girl? My Papa was older than my Mama."
"I don't think it matters if you really like each other."
"I really like you, Madison," Alexei said shyly.
"I really like you too, Alexei."
"And you don't even mind that I have hemophilia?"
"Of course not. You can't help that, and besides, it has nothing to do with who you really are on the inside." Madison's voice assumed a teasing lilt. "As long as you, dear Tsarevitch, don't mind that I'm not a European princess."
Alexei giggled. "I"m not the Tsarevitch anymore. I'm just plain Alexei Romanov now."
"Does that bother you? Not being the Tsarevitch anymore, I mean."
Alexei shrugged. "It's simply what I used to be but aren't anymore. I certainly don't miss lying in bed bleeding and all the pain, but I do miss Papa and Mama and Olga and Tatiana and Maria so much it hurts."
"You'll see them again in time," Madison told him.
"How do you know?"
"I just know. That's all."
"I want to go back home, George," Anastasia mumbled into the front of his shirt. "Not Anne and Henry's house. Your apartment. I want Alexei to come with us too. I have to be with both of you tonight."
"His foster parents think he just went to dinner with you and a friend. They'll be worried sick."
"We can call them in the morning."
George was secretly relieved at the inclusion of Alexei in the request. He didn't feel sure at all that he would trust himself to do the right thing otherwise. He had to keep reminding himself that she was, after all, still only seventeen, and this was the twenty-first century, not the sixteenth.
"All right." All four of them got in George's car and returned to the apartment. Madison drove back to her home and the other three slept together on George's bed that night, still fully clothed, Anastasia's arm around Alexei and George's arm around both of them.
A few days later, Anastasia played with Elizabeth and Jonathan and watched Spongebob Squarepants with them while Anne read the newspaper.
"This body that was just recovered from the river," Anne remarked. "Turns out it wasn't a recent drowning at all. Forensic anthropologists estimated that he died almost a hundred years ago. They're doing DNA testing to establish his identity."
I could tell them exactly who he is, but no one would believe me, thought Anastasia.
