Vanda stood alone in her office, blinking back tears. Dammit, she wouldn't cry. She was tough. But she'd made Phil suffer. She'd never intended to do that. How could a little harmless fun go so wrong?

She circled the desk and collapsed in her chair. He'd seen right through her. He'd known she was bored out of her skull. When she'd first joined the harem in 1948, she'd welcomed the peace and serenity. But over time, boredom had set in, and she'd been desperate for a diversion.

Poor Phil had seemed safe. It was against the rules for him to fraternize with her. He'd made it clear from the start that he would honor the rules.

And she'd tortured him.

She bent her head and rested it on her hands. The coffin tucked away in the shadows of her mind slowly creaked open. Mental pictures floated out.

Mama, who had died in 1935 when Vanda was eighteen.

Frieda, her youngest sister, who died four years later when they fled from the Nazis. Frieda, with her chestnut curls and big blue eyes.

Jozef, her baby brother, who at the age of twelve insisted on joining his father and three older brothers to fight the incoming invasion. Vanda's eyes stung with tears. Jozef with his black curly hair and laughing, blue eyes. He'd marched off to war so proudly. And she never saw him again. A tear rolled down her cheek.

Ian had always reminded her of Jozef. She hadn't meant to become attached to Ian, but he'd slowly started to symbolize all the brothers she had lost. And she'd come so close to losing Ian last December. Ever since the battle at DVN, her nerves had been on edge.

More pictures drifted out of the coffin. Papa and her three other brothers—Bazyli, Krystian, and Stefan. Fuzzy and unclear.

A sob escaped. Oh God, she couldn't remember their faces. Her shoulders shook. How could she forget? After Mama died, she'd taken care of all her brothers and sisters. They'd been her entire life. How could she forget?