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If she says no, she disappoints Anya and looks petty.

If she says yes, she gets to prove she can manage Nikolai’s household better than I can, while placing herself firmly in the role of responsible family member.

Irina smooths a hand over her dress. “I could take you both.”

Anya’s head snaps up. “You could?”

“I don’t see why not, provided there’s proper security.”

“Obviously,” I say quickly. “Kirill should come.”

Anya’s face falls for half a second, which tells me she was hoping this would become some kind of magical unguarded freedom expedition.

Irina studies me for a second, clearly trying to decide whether I am being helpful or clever.

I make my face as harmless as possible. It takes effort.

“Yes,” she says slowly. “That would be sensible.”

“And perhaps we tell Nikolai once everything is arranged,” I say carefully, “so we can present him with a complete plan instead of a vague request.”

Irina’s expression smooths out. To her, this is not suspicious. It is strategy. It is the kind of thing people in this house probably do all the time—prepare the facts, anticipate Nikolai’s objections, then approach him when refusal looks less reasonable.

The difference is that I am not planning to approach him while he is in the house.

I know his schedule now, at least loosely. I know he leaves for the city three mornings a week, usually before breakfast, usually with Sergei, and usually in the black car with two guards following. He doesn’t return before late afternoon on those days unless something goes wrong.

Lily’s birthday party is in two days. Plenty of time to arrange the pieces. Not enough time for me to talk myself out of it.

Anya looks between us, hope rising cautiously on her face. “Does that mean I can go?”

“It means,” I say, before Irina can turn this into a royal proclamation, “that we are going to prepare a proper plan and then ask your father.”

Anya’s shoulders drop. “But he’ll say no.”

“Not if we make it easier for him to say yes.”

Irina nods, looking pleased with herself already. “That’s the correct way to handle Nikolai,” she says.

I have seen Nikolai moved by Anya’s face alone. He doesn’t dislike emotional appeals. He dislikes admitting they work.

But I say nothing.

Irina doesn’t need to know that.

“We’ll need the address,” I say to Anya. “Lily’s mother’s number if you have it. Time, guest list, whether parents are staying, whether there’s outdoor space, entrances, exits, anything your father might ask.”

Anya’s eyes widen. “I can get Lily’s mother’s number from my school tablet.”

“Good. And no messaging Lily yet,” I add.

Her smile fades. “Why?”

“Because nothing is final. I don’t want you excited and then disappointed.”

Anya looks down, but she nods.

Irina turns toward the window, already imagining herself in charge of this little mission.