Anne Hines

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“Felix Schanzkowska,” the guard says by way of introduction. When it comes to poker faces, his is every bit as good as Anna’s. He stares at her, head tipped slightly to the side, and gives no indication at all of what he’s thinking. Anna doesn’t break eye contact, but she does pick at her cuticles— one small show of nerves that she can’t disguise.
I Was Anastasia
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