Risked (The Missing ) by Margaret Peterson Haddix Page B

boy,” Alexei said. He paused, then added, “I know people say that I’m not the tsarevitch anymore and that I’ll never be tsar, but they’re wrong. You’ll see.”
    The other boy didn’t say anything, but just lay there watching Alexei cheat.
    Jonah couldn’t remember ever playing with toy soldiers like this—well, who would want to in the twenty-first century, when there were video games to play instead? And anyhow, his mom had always kind of had a hang-up about letting him play games that involved pretend guns and killing people. But it seemed like Leonid and Alexei were acting like seven- or eight-year-olds, and they both looked a lot older than that. Leonid had the beginnings of dark beard stubble along his jaw—was he fifteen? Sixteen? Seventeen? It was even harder to tell how old Alexei was, since he was so thin and seemed to be in such constant pain. But Gavin and his tracer seemed about the same height, so Alexei must be at least thirteen.
    Oh, wait, didn’t Katherine and I see a birth year listed for Alexei on the Internet? Jonah wondered. Nineteen-oh . . . something .
    That didn’t help.
    Alexei stretched to reach the last soldier. He gritted his teeth, as if this simple movement took incredible effort. Or caused incredible pain.
    “I’ll help you advance your men in the next battle,” Leonid offered.
    Oh, Jonah thought, watching the older boy’s face. Leonid is just humoring Alexei. Like a babysitter or something. He wouldn’t be playing with toy soldiers on his own.
    Alexei looked up at Leonid, and for the first time since coming back into this room, Jonah saw a glow of tracer light.
    “You’re a good friend, Leonid,” Alexei said. “You’ve been very loyal, both at Tobolsk and here in Ekaterinburg. When you leave today, you should . . . should take half of my soldiers with you. They belong to you now.”
    This was completely different from whatever Alexei had said in original time. Jonah could tell by the sudden burst of tracer lights around his mouth.
    “And then I’ll have to carry them back and forth when we play again tomorrow?” Leonid complained, creating his own glow of tracer lights.
    Tomorrow, Jonah thought. Alexei knows they won’t be playing toy soldiers together tomorrow. Because, thanks to Gavin’s memories, he knows when everybody is supposed to die.
    Did this also mean that Alexei—and Gavin—had given up on fighting fate?

NINETEEN
    Jonah found that he couldn’t bear to stay in this dim room anymore, watching teenagers play with toy soldiers like little kids. Anyhow, as long as Leonid was around, there was no way Jonah could pull Gavin out of his tracer and interrogate him.
    Jonah backed out of the room. He was surprised to find that Anastasia and her two oldest sisters—Olga and Tatiana, if he remembered right—had moved their sewing projects into their own bedroom. They sat awkwardly in a circle on the floor, pushing needles in and out of piles of frilly girl clothes.
    Corsets? Jonah wondered. His knowledge of old-fashioned women’s clothing didn’t go much further than “dress” and “skirt,” so he was kind of proud of himself for coming up with the other word.
    Oooh, he realized. Maybe that’s why they’re in here sewing now, instead of out in the other room with their father. Maybe there’s some rule about not working on clothes like that around men. Like, maybe it’s considered underwear?
    “Do you have all your medicines arranged properly?” one of the older sisters asked Anastasia.
    “Yes, Tatiana,” Anastasia said with a knowing grin. “All arranged and secure as soon as I finish here.”
    Jonah couldn’t understand. Medicines? Was Anastasia sick somehow too?
    He stepped forward, and the floorboard squeaked beneath his foot.
    All three girls glanced up, giving off tiny bursts of tracer light. Olga and Tatiana looked down again immediately, as if they thought they’d just imagined the noise. But Anastasia—or Daniella, really—met