She awoke sometime later in a plain, well-kept room. She lay on a hard mattress covered with warm, scratchy blankets. Her wounds had been bandaged. When she tried to sit up, pain shot through her, and a warm hand pushed her back down.
“Do not try to move, child. It will be days before you can get up.”
The voice belonged to the woman who had rescued her in the alley. Inga looked up into a wide, kindly face with sad blue eyes. A scarf covered the woman's hair, though some peeked out near her forehead. It was straw-colored.
“I am called Yehvah. What is your name, little one?”
“I-Inga.”
“Inga, you must rest until you are healed. I’ve brought you inside the Kremlin Wall to be trained as a maid. You’re going to be all right, but you must rest.”
“Where’s Papa?” Inga’s voice was thick with tears.
Yehvah heaved a sigh. “I do not know, Child. You will not likely see him again. You’re going to live with me, now.”
Inga’s tears flowed in earnest and Yehvah knelt beside her bed, stroking her hair and brushing the tears away with gentle fingers. “There, there, Inga. It will all be all right. Try to sleep, now.” Yehvah pulled the blanket up and tucked it under Inga’s chin.
Inga fell into a fitful sleep, taking comfort in the fact that Yehvah had done what father never had.
She awakened briefly to the sound of another woman’s voice, speaking quietly with Yehvah.
“Where did she come from?” the unfamiliar voice asked.
“I found her being beaten by a tavern master in an alley. Her father abandoned her and didn’t pay his bill.”
“Poor dear,” the second voice said with concern.
“Will you sit with her, Anne?” Yehvah asked. “The grand princess is close to the birthing hour. I’m needed. The child is terribly frightened and in pain. I don’t want her to awaken alone.”
“Of course, Yehvah. I’ll stay the night.”
Inga fell back into a troubled sleep, wondering what would become of her.