H.R.H.

Christianna did not see her father the night she got home. He was in Vienna for a diplomatic dinner at the French embassy, and had stayed at Palace Liechtenstein, just as he had when he went to the ballet with her. He knew before he left for Vienna that she was safe. Their cell phones hadn't worked while they were in Russia, but her bodyguards had called him from the airport to reassure him. Until then, he had been wild with worry. And he came to find her the moment he got home. It was twenty-four hours after she had returned from Russia. She looked immaculate in jeans, loafers, and a Berkeley sweatshirt. Her hair was freshly washed and brushed. There was no sign of what she'd been through, or how harrowing it had been, until he looked into her eyes. What he saw there terrified him. She didn't look dead, but more alive than he had ever seen her, wiser, older, sadder, deeper. Just as she had known herself when she came home, after all she'd seen during those three days, she was no longer the same person. Looking at her, he was frightened. He knew everything had changed since he had last seen her.

“Hello, Papa,” she said quietly as he put his arms around her and kissed her. “I'm so happy to see you.” She seemed more adult than she ever had been, more of a woman. He wanted to hold her in his arms and keep her, and suddenly he knew he couldn't. The child he had known and nurtured was suddenly gone, and in her place was a woman who had learned and seen things that no one should ever have to know.

“I missed you,” he said sadly. “I was so worried about you. I watched the news constantly, but I never saw you. Was it as awful as it looked?” he asked, sitting down next to her and taking her hand in his. He wished she hadn't gone, but there had been no stopping her. He knew he couldn't. And he knew the same now.

“It was worse. There was a lot the press wasn't allowed to show, out of respect for the families.” Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks as his heart ached for what she'd been through. He would have done anything to protect her from it. “They killed so many children, Papa. Hundreds of them, as though they were just sheep or cattle or goats.”

“I know. I saw some of it on television. The families' faces were so terrible. I kept thinking of how I would feel if I lost you. I couldn't bear it. I don't know how those people will survive, and go on. It must be so hard.” She thought of her young pregnant friend then, the one she had never been able to talk to, but they had just held each other and cried … and Marque … all of them who had crossed her path in those few days. “I was relieved that the press never got you. Did they ever find out that you were there?” He assumed they hadn't or he would have heard about it, and she shook her head.

“No, they didn't, and the woman in charge of the Red Cross was very discreet. She knew it the moment she saw my passport. She said some of our cousins have worked with her before.”

“I'm glad she didn't say anything. I was afraid someone would.” If so, it would have been the least of her problems, although she wouldn't have liked it either, and was glad that she had been able to do her work undiscovered and undisturbed. It would have been such an intrusion to have photographers in her face, and offended all the grieving people. She had been lucky to remain anonymous throughout the trip.

She looked at her father long and hard then, and he sensed that something was coming that he wouldn't like. She tightened her grip on his hand and looked into his eyes. Hers were two bottomless pools of bright blue sky, very much like his, except that his were old and hers were young. And in hers he saw twin pools of hope and pain. She had seen too much for a girl her age in those three days. He knew it would take her a long time to forget all that she'd seen.

“I want to go back, Papa,” she said softly, and he looked startled, shocked, pained. “Not to Russia, but to work with the Red Cross again. I want to make a difference, and I can't do that here. I know I can't do it forever, but I want a year, six months … after that I'll do whatever you want. But for once in my life I want to do something that makes a difference, a big one, to someone else. Papa, please.…” Her eyes were filled with tears as he shook his head and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.