Hello, again! Whaddayaknow, writing schedules work! Check me out, another chapter in less than six months - adulting FTW :D

This one turned out to be a MONSTER of a chapter, the longest ever, and I had to chop it in half because I couldn't bear to cut anything and my OCD wouldn't let me have one chapter twice as long as all the rest. Bad for flow, anyways. Good news for you, though - you get a 2Fer!

Happy reading :)

P.S. Reviews will likely ensure I finish this before next Christmas. Just saying. Thanks so much for all the love on the last chapter especially - it means so much!

Kotik = pussycat

Zvezda moya = my star

Mon dieu = my god (exclaimation)

l'Accordéonaire = French accordion

XOXO

J.F

A scorching panic blazed through Anya's blood, making her grip the armrests of her chair until her knuckles turned white.

The escape!

How the hell had she not seen this coming? Combing through her most recent recollections for clues, she couldn't remember having had a conversation with either of her traveling companions on the topic at all.

She could have murdered Dimitri then and there - Vladimir, too. After countless hours of lessons and lectures, of practice and recitation until she was depleted both physically and mentally, neither one of them thought to prepare her for the most obviously important question in the world?

This wasn't on her! How was Anya to know the hierarchy of significance for the information they'd been feeding her for weeks, let alone be aware of what was missing? She had been too busy overloading her brain with a glut of data it could barely accommodate - it was not her duty to admonish her supposed "professors" that they may have left something critical off the review for her final exam.

If it were possible, Sophie's already chilly demeanor frosted over more with each passing moment of Anya's silence, her eyes mistrustful slits. Her lips curved into a ghost of a dubious sneer as she cocked her head and waited for Anya to speak, small manicured hands clasped in her lap. Vladimir, on the other hand, looked as if he were having a stroke.

Anya couldn't see Dimitri at her back, but she could imagine he was in a similar state.

She stared at the gleaming wood floor and its intricate pattern, fuming just beneath the surface. Her entire future hinged upon a wild guess...

But perhaps not. She was Anastasia, wasn't she? Anya thought back on the beginning of her French crusade to the day she'd visited the Winter Palace, of her strange and intimate familiarity with a place she had never laid eyes on before. And that was prior to Dimitri introducing the concept of a lost royal heritage.

The dusty silver platter in the banquet hall came to mind, as did the bearded man and little girl in the emerald dress that had flashed through her mind's eye back then. Probing deeper with a frown, she took a breath and scraped the recesses of her memory for something - anything - to answer Sophie's question before it was too late.

Yes, there - a dark room bathed in a red glow from nearby windows, as if fire burned outside. A dollhouse. A bed. And a skinny boy with dark hair and equally dark eyes, wide with fear. But where had he come from?

"He...opened a wall..."

Anya started, realizing she'd spoken her musings aloud. A stinging warmth crept up her neck and she chuckled nervously, babbling to cover the faux pas. She sounded insane.

But Sophie's face had changed, the prim lines relaxing into an expression Anya couldn't name. When she didn't speak for some time, Vladimir piped up and Anya could hear the blatant hope in his voice.

"So...is she a Romanov?"

Sophie coughed daintily, standing to retrieve the china tea service edged in gold the sulking maid had brought in earlier. Her smile turned coy. "Well...she did answer every question..." She burst into a giggle and bobbed up and down on her toes in a little celebratory dance, the ruffles of her gown swishing.

A grin exploded across Vladimir's face as he shot to his feet. He looked at Anya, eyes sparkling with a joy she had never seen in him before. "Do you hear that, child? You did it!" He came around the coffee table so fast, Anya could hardly register what was happening as he scooped her up into a bear hug with a whoop and spun her in a circle. She closed her eyes and laughed, still reeling after he set her down again. Was this really happening?

After squeezing Anya's arms and chucking her under the chin, Vladimir turned his attention back to Sophie. "So, when do we go and see the Empress?"

Sophie heaved a great sigh of frustration, rattling the cups and saucers on the serving tray. "I'm afraid you don't, darling."

Vladimir's heavy brows met in a scowl. "Come again, kotik?"

"The Empress simply won't allow it. After the girl who'd visited most recently, she's refused to see any others, no matter how I've tried to convince her not to give up."

Anya sank back into her chair, fighting to keep her alarm from resurging. She'd made it this far. She was not about to trip at the finish line because the imposters who'd come before her had ruined her chances. The men would think of something. She frowned in confusion when she glanced over at the abandoned fireplace. Where had Dimitri gone?

"Now Sophie, zvezda moya," Vladimir said in a growling, seductive voice as Sophie began to saunter past him. He blocked her path and seized the tea tray from her hands. "Surely you can think of some way to arrange a brief interview with the Dowager." Vladimir's back didn't block Anya's view of Sophie's raised eyebrow at his audacity. She snatched the tray back but Anya caught her amused smirk before Sophie turned around again. Vladimir wrapped his burly arms around her from behind and whispered something in her ear.

Sophie made a noise in response that made Anya mash her lips together in an embarrassed smile and looked away. The two of them had definitely done this kind of canoodling before; she could only imagine what would be going on if she hadn't been in the room.

"I refuse to budge until an answer occurs to you," Vladimir said after Sophie had coquettishly worked her way free of his embrace, the tea tray restored only for her to put it back in its original location on the coffee table. "Please?"

Sophie's face brightened when she faced Anya. "Do you like the Russian Ballet?"

Anya nodded like a horse. She'd never seen the company live, but her friend Irina used to collect abandoned flyers from their performances in St. Petersburg, combing the gutters when she'd go into the city with Comrade Phlegmenkoff to run errands. She had so wanted to be a ballerina.

It took some effort for Anya to ward off the sudden sadness Irina's memory dredged up. Her best friend would be so proud of her now. Anya was doing this for her, too.

"I believe they're performing in Paris tomorrow night," Sophie continued. "The Empress and I love the Russian Ballet...we never miss it." She winked and Anya watched Vladimir's smile grow as he caught Sophie's drift.

Anya grinned. Sophie was a wily one.

"I will be back in a moment," Vladimir said and headed toward the back door, most likely to tell an MIA Dimitri the news. Sophie paused to watch him leave before holding out a hand to Anya, beaming. "Congratulations, my darling!"

Ecstatic, Anya accepted her offering. Sophie placed her other hand on top of Anya's, her skin impossibly soft. They were hands that had never seen manual labor. Thinking of the relative roughness of her own skin, Anya reddened and said, "Thank you so much...I-I don't really know what to say."

"Well," Sophie said as she pulled Anya from her chair just to tug her back down on the couch beside her, "you could tell me where you've been all this time!"

"Oh." Anya knew she had no reason to be ashamed of her past, but she couldn't ignore the feeling of being out of place that had crept in, like a tickle in her throat she couldn't shake. "I...grew up in an orphanage just outside of St. Petersburg, since I was about ten years old."

Sophie paled, her hand flying to her mouth. "An orphanage?"

"Yes." Anya's smile turned into a kind of apology. "I couldn't remember much of anything, and that's where they take kids who don't belong to anybody - or the ones who don't know that they do."

"Mon dieu...how awful."

It was and Anya didn't want to think about it anymore. "When I turned eighteen I aged out and found my way to the city." Something told her Vladimir wouldn't want Sophie to know that Anya had encountered him living in the Old Palace, so she left out that detail. "I met Vladimir and Dimitri and they offered to bring me here to meet you."

"And I assume Dimitri is the handsome young man, yes?"

Anya nodded.

Face soft, Sophie reached for Anya's hand again, genuine kindness shining from her large blue eyes. "I'm so very glad they did. What you can remember is good enough for me."

Anya liked the older woman more than she thought possible. Her own eyes burning with unshed tears that closed off her throat, she choked out her next words: "Thank you, Sophie."

Sophie patted her hand and jumped up with a deftness that belied her considerable size. "Now - did you bring any luggage?"

"Outside," Anya said after she'd composed herself, pointing over her shoulder. "It's...not much."

Smiling, Sophie shrugged. "No matter. We will get you all appropriate attire for the opening night of the ballet, don't you worry." She hesitated and Anya could feel Sophie assessing her from head to toe. "And...what do you have besides that dress?"

Anya swallowed. "Some pajamas, and an old coat."

Sophie's face lit up. "Oh, darling - we must go shopping immediately!"

Anya jumped out of her seat. Former orphanage resident or not, she wasn't a charity case. "No, please don't go to all that trouble - "

"I'll hear none of it!" Sophie said, striding to the hallway. "I was overdue for a shopping trip, anyway - Henriette!" she yelled down the corridor.

The maid appeared, peeking her bonnetted head around the corner. "Oui, madame?"

Sophie continued to speak Russian, likely out of respect for Anya's lack of French proficiency. "Have Louis bring the car around - and get the tea tray on your way out."

Henriette curtsied and complied. "And don't dawdle!" Sophie squawked when she was done, chasing the little woman out of the room with her shrill voice.

Anya paid no mind. By now, her excitement had extinguished her unease and was bursting her seams.

Sophie noticed her inability to stand still and gestured at the back door, chuckling. When Anya dashed across the parlor to the exit, she called after her, "But we'll have to do something with that hair! Mademoiselle Chanel does not suffer the un-groomed!"

Vladimir and Dimitri were conversing in the shade of a blossoming cherry tree when Anya found them in the courtyard, and she had just enough time to tell them of their great turn of fortune before Sophie urged her back inside. Upstairs in her opulent bedroom, the jovial noblewoman seated Anya at her vanity and transformed her tresses into an elegant French coiffure in a matter of minutes.

Sophie disappeared into her closet once she'd finished and reemerged in her city clothes, a sunny yellow skirt and tomato red jacket that she cinched at the waist with a black belt. She inspected her work in a full length mirror while she slipped into a pair of fancy heels. Plopping an extravagant hat with a huge red bow on her head, Sophie turned and made a kissy face at Anya, making her laugh aloud. "Shall we, darling?"

Still steeped in elated disbelief, Anya followed Sophie back downstairs like an obedient duckling. Henriette The Maid informed her mistress that the car had arrived as requested as she was nervously herding Vladimir and Dimitri to the front door. When Anya mentioned Pooka was still outside, Vladimir retrieved the excited puppy from the bushes and handed him off to Henriette for caretaking, much to her delight.

Sophie's car was the fanciest Anya had ever seen, black and glossy as obsidian with an elongated body and sleek leather seats the hue of clotted cream. Sophie slid into the front seat with the uniformed driver. Vladimir ended up in the middle of the back seat between Anya and Dimitri, but the cabin was so roomy Anya still had space to wiggle around in her spot by the window. She made sure to sit on her hands. The inside was so pristine, she was afraid to touch anything.

The large white-walled tires made for a far more luxurious ride than the taxi as they glided through the wealthy suburbs toward the city's center. It was still fairly early, and the lack of people up and about provided an opportunity for Anya to take in her surroundings without distraction. It seemed too beautiful to be real - immaculate footpaths, lush gardens pruned to perfection concealing glimpses of countless dignified mansions, the many lavish automobiles - though not nicer than Sophie's, to be sure - parked just outside of lacy iron gates. There weren't even any stray dogs digging through trash here, a common sight in St. Petersburg.

Anya couldn't refrain from rolling down the window once the driver had abandoned the wide, oak-lined streets for the more narrow avenues of the city proper. She couldn't even feel the early spring chill that slipped in as Paris made its formal introduction, welcoming her with the sights and scents and sounds of her dreams.

Cobblestone streets. Tawny, stately buildings much taller than they were wide that stretched on for blocks with no space between them, their elegant exteriors flush with the sidewalks and embellished with ironwork balconies. Artists dotting street corners with their easels and buckets for change. Reedy notes of l'Accordéonaire floating above the street noise. Early crowds of well-heeled Parisians blending seamlessly with the working class as they strolled in and out of flower shops and meat markets and sidewalk cafes, most with cigarettes dangling from their fingertips. The earthy ancientness of the city laced with the scent of fresh bread as it greeted the day.

Anya had to resist the urge to glance down at her hands to see if they looked different in the light of a Parisian sun. She certainly felt different, as if she were in a waking fantasy, yet more alive than ever before.

A tear escaped her eye and she swiped it away before anyone could see.

Sophie had been chattering on and on as she pointed out landmarks, but nothing she'd said registered for Anya, especially once they'd turned into the ungoverned roundabout to the Avenue des Champs-Élysées and the Arc de Triomphe dominated the immediate skyline. Anya stuck her head out of the window like Pooka would have as they navigated the honking traffic around to its eastern side into an expansive shopping district, with more stores of every size and type than she had ever beheld in one location. She turned to grin at Vladimir and Dimitri, but both of them were looking out of the other window as distracted by the splendor as she had been.

Once they'd entered an area where the luxury stores were clumped together, Sophie had the driver drop them off at the curb as there was no available parking along the street and off they went - Vladimir and Dimitri toward the men's fashion boutiques armed with Sophie's name and store credit, while Anya and the woman herself found their way to the haute couture shops of the rich and famous.

The rest of the morning went by in a whirlwind of fitting rooms and flashes of luxurious fabrics. Sophie had made it her mission to turn Anya into her personal doll, dragging her into one establishment after another until her feet ached and throwing piles and piles of her selections into the arms of waiting attendants for Anya to try on. Each store was given instructions to deliver any and all items Anya chose to Sophie's home.

Anya was beside herself, happily drowning in gauzy day dresses of peacock blue and bronze, cotton velvet dinner gowns encrusted with beaded embroidery - she couldn't take it all in. She could count on one hand how many outfits she'd owned in her entire life until today, and at one point, she stood alone behind the closed door of a changing room, shoulders shaking as she bawled silently into her palms out of pure joy.