The Key to Her Heart

Prologue

The Winter Palace, St, Petersburg, 1917

The ballroom was a glittering stage of gold and marble, filled with dancers swirling in beautiful dresses as though they were swans on the Neva River. A young boy watched from behind a pillar, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He watched as the littlest princess gave her mother a gift, laughing as a fake spider scared the Tsarina. She had always enjoyed playing practical jokes on the family. She never failed to make anyone smile.

Footsteps echoed down the hall behind him and the boy jumped as a hand grabbed his collar. The man dragged him out of the room, away from the glamour and scene from a dream. "Stupid child, I told you to stay in the kitchens where you belong!"

"Sorry sir," the boy whispered, waiting for the man to turn his back to stick his tongue out at him. He wasn't really sorry.

The boy climbed onto a stool, sticking his hands into the soapy water. He could still here the music playing; probably a mazurka. The princess waltzed into his thoughts and he smiled. It soon faded. 'Kitchen boys don't marry princess,' he thought, throwing a spoon into the water. She probably didn't even know he existed.

The piles of plates and tableware soon vanished, sparkling clean and away in their cupboards. The boy smiled, satisfied with his work. He was finally done for the day, and he knew where he wanted to go next.

A loud boom echoed across the palace. Everyone froze, their faces white as ghosts. Another rang again, this time closer, and the room erupted into chaos. People clamoured to get out, from whatever was coming to get them. The sound came again, followed by the shattering of glass nearby. The boy froze, panic welling inside him.

'Don't panic,' came his father's voice into his head. 'You'll get through this. Just clear your head and think of what to do next.'

The first thing he thought of was the secret door in the cupboard under the sink. He climbed in, undetected by the panicked staff around him, and crawled through the dark passage. It was cold in there, with no hearing and no light. But the boy knew where to go. He came to a grate in the wall and peeked out. What he saw made his blood run cold.

Soldiers in red with giant rifles flooded the stunning ballroom, their horrible banner waving from a pole. The gold and white of the pillars was splattered with dark crimson that dripped onto small mounds of silk and taffeta lying lifeless on the ground. A child screamed somewhere, followed by a gunshot.

They were here for the Tsar, for the Royals, and for his little princess. The boy hurried as fast as he could down the corridor, knowing very well where she would be.

She was in her room, her older sister standing watch by the doorway. "Hurry," she whispered, her regal and serious composure gone.

"I can't find it. I can't find my music box!" Her eyes were wide, tears staining her rosy cheeks. "Nana gave it to me!"

"Is it on your nightstand?"

She hurried to the bed and held up a turquoise music box. "Here!" Her triumph was cut short as her sister screamed and fell to the floor, her beautiful bodice turning red. The soldier turned to the trembling girl, and the boy's scream was masked by the gun firing.

She hit her head on the metal bedframe, the music box rolling away under the bed. The soldier scanned the room and left, off to find another victim.

The boy stared in horror. Her face was hidden under her hair, but he could see the red beginning to seep through the golden locks. His vision blurred and something hot fell from his cheek. He was crying. Crying for someone who would never know his name, never know he existe-

Her hand slowly curled into a fist. He watched as she slowly sat up, red dripping down the side of her face. He could have laughed with joy, but he knew they weren't out of danger. He pushed out the grate and ran over to her, helping her to her feet. "Come on! You need to get out of here!"

She said nothing but obeyed, following him in silence as they crawled through the palace. She stopped to look in one of the grate they past, letting a short gasp escape. He grabbed her arm and pulled her along until they were finally out in the biting cold.

Snow whirled around them, dancing as the dancers had once done a short while ago. The princess shivered next to him, her bare arms riddled with goosebumps.

"Here, take my coat." He put it around her shoulders carefully and she thanked him, a faint smile on her face. "Let's get out of here."

They hobbled along, boots crunching in the snow beneath them. The boy looked back through the swirling snow. All he could see was two pairs of small footprints and the occasional patch of scarlet.

"Who... who are you?"

He turned back to her. She looked at him, blue eyes filled with fear.

"Nobody. Don't worry about me."

She nodded, her eyelids drooping. Her knees suddenly gave way and she collapsed into his arms, no longer conscious. He scooped her up, as much as his twigy arms could lift her and stumbled through the snow, leaving the guns and red behind them.

She would be okay. She had to.

After all, she was the only one left.