The girl attended to her hunger with single-minded devotion before falling into a deep sleep on the sofa, seemingly overcome with relief.
“That’s no place to sleep. I’ll take her to a room with a bed,” Xandra said, and Radosław thanked her.
At the same time that Xandra left with the girl in her arms, the Count entered the parlor, as though replacing them.
“This is quite the unexpected visit.”
Radosław stood from the couch. “I’m very sorry.”
“Please, sit,” the Count said. “Let’s talk.”
“Something terrible has happened in Belgium.”
“I know.”
“What do you intend to do?” Radosław asked.
“Nothing.”
“Are you waiting for instructions from your homeland?”
“I have no interest in the Kingdom of Romania,” replied the Count. “I shall simply watch this war from afar, observing how quickly it ends or how long it continues. That is, unless you came to request something of me.”
“I’m here on a matter unrelated to my duties.”
“And that is?”
“I’d like to leave my daughter with you for a little while. She’s still young. I can’t take her anywhere she might get hurt.”
“Where’s Alicja?”
“She was killed. Because of my ineptitude.”
“Were you found out?”
His body trembling faintly, Radosław clasped and unclasped his hands in his lap, trying to keep his frustration contained. “We did well until the start of the war. We could travel anywhere without raising suspicion. But we didn’t expect German intelligence to find us so quickly.”
“You’re on the run now?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you blunder?”
“I don’t know. The attack came out of the blue. It was all I could do to grab my daughter and run.”
In the days leading up to the Great War, diplomats and politicians from every country wanted the most up-to-date information as they decided whether to attempt diplomacy as a means to avoid war or to use force to suppress the aggressors. Radosław and his wife, Alicja, had worked to collect that information, through which they’d met the Count. They had only one objective: contact political figures in Great Britain and France to collect and disseminate classified information in exchange for their help in rebuilding Poland.
“What do you plan to do now?” the Count asked. “If you want to hide yourself, I have any number of rooms I can offer you.”
“Thank you, but too many of my comrades are still out there. I have to warn them.”
“If you go into hiding, they’ll figure out what happened. It would be best not to move around too much.”
“I’d go mad doing nothing and spend all my time remembering Alicja’s last moments.”
“You need to play the long game,” advised the Count. “Even after this war ends, Poland won’t be handed back to you so easily. Exhausting yourself now will only break you later.”
Radosław didn’t respond to the Count but simply reiterated, “Will you look after her?”
“This isn’t a church. It’s not the sort of place where we can look after a child.”
“I understand that.”
“No, you don’t,” reinforced the Count. “What will I do with her if you’re killed out there? Feed her to a monster?”
“Please, be serious.”
“I have no intention of becoming her adoptive father.”
“Send her away from here when she grows up. I’ll leave money for her room and board. This is the only place that’s safe.”
The Count rested an elbow on the arm of the chair, settled his chin in his palm, and thought for a moment. “Money isn’t enough. You’ll have to agree to my conditions.”
“I accept, whatever they are. What do you want?”
“Her name and memories.”
“What?”
“She has lost her mother, and she may yet lose her father, as well. I won’t be able to take care of her if she’s lonely and depressed, so I’ll erase her memories of you both. And her name. However, erasing every last detail about you two may create inconsistencies with her other memories, so I’ll have to leave some traces… But in the future, if you somehow manage to make it through your multitude of troubles, rebuild Poland, and return here, you will be no more than a stranger to her. She’ll even forget the face of her mother. In return, I promise to keep her alive. If you can agree to that, then I will look after the child.”
Radosław looked stunned but eventually came to a decision. “If it will keep her safe, then she can forget about us. Ensuring her future is the most important thing.”
“You’ve made a deal with a monster. Be careful you don’t regret it.”
“Never. I can only thank you. What name will you give her?”
The Count’s gaze shifted and he pointed to a large vase in the parlor. It didn’t hold a single flower. However, when Radosław turned to look at it, a bouquet of bud-covered stems extended from the vase, instantly sprouting white and purple flowers. Their sweet fragrance wafted strongly toward him. Lilacs—also known as lilas.
“Your daughter’s new name shall be Lila,” the Count declared. “Her old name has been lost. Address her by her former name, and she won’t know you’re talking to her. She is no longer able to recognize you as her father. But she is promised a future.”
“Thank you.” Radosław rose from his chair. “I should be going already.”
“Radek.” He turned, hearing the Count address him by his nickname. “Please try not to die.”
Radosław smiled brightly at him, then slid his arms into his partially dry coat, adjusted his sleeves, and left the lounge.
Never to return to Xandra’s inn again.