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Gently, with just her heel, she shuts the door. “Her brother? I did.”
There it is. The confirmation I expected but hoped to be wrong about. “It seems everyone is happily keeping secrets from me,” I grumble, reclining back in my chair.
Her eyebrows lower to match her tone. “Can you blame them?”
My fingers, which had started to relax on the chair’s arms, dig in fiercely enough to make the leather creak. “What?”
“You’ve created an environment where people feel like they need to hide things from you. They walk on eggshells, Arsen, terrified they’ll upset you. Terrified of what you might do to them.”
“It’s good for them to fear me,” I growl, pushing myself to my feet. “If they don’t tremble in my presence, then they don’t respect me. They don’t see me as powerful. Only a ruthless pakhan can protect those who have entrusted him with their lives.”
“Out there, yes.” She turns her head like it will help her hear me better. “But not in here. In here, your people should trust you. They should be eager to come to you with their fears and worries and doubts.” She pauses for emphasis. “Yet they don’t.”
A tingle ricochets up my spine as I read between the lines. “Galina doesn’t fear me.”
“Then why did she keep Ruslan from you?” she asks coolly.
“Because she doesn’t understand!” Throwing my arms up, I begin to pace in front of Ulyana. My office, a place normally spacious and comforting, has become a cage. Like the one Galina accuses me of trapping her in. I feel hot all over and wipe at my neck, expecting to find sweat, but my skin is dry. “She’s confused, and so set on saving every life around her that she doesn’t realize she’s putting more of them in danger.”
“If she wasn’t afraid, she would have spoken to you right after you picked her up in the park.”
The muscles in my back cramp up. I say nothing, just stare at her as she continues to speak. “She held her secret close, and only when she thought you might die or murder the boy, did she share it with me. Do you know why she did that?”
One answer jumps to my mind. “Guilt.”
“Maybe a measure of it, yes,” she admits, “but ultimately, she wanted me to soothe her fears about you. She wanted me to assure her that you would not harm the boy. That you would not stoop that low.”
“And what did you say?” I pry eagerly.
“I’d told her before that you had a code. You didn’t hurt the boy tonight, did you?”
“No.” I finally stop pacing, standing before her with my arms hanging at my sides. I curl my fingers, unsure what to do with myself. But I could have. I could have killed him.
“Then that’s all that matters,” she says sharply, cutting through my inner turmoil. “You didn’t harm him.”
The tendon in my neck pulls tight. “But I might have to. He threatens everything, Ulyana. I promised Galina I would end this war and the endless violence along with it. How am I going to do that if Yevgeniy’s son is allowed to live!?”
“I cannot help you with that answer,” she whispers. “I can only tell you to go speak with Galina, and talk to her calmly. Work with her to create a real plan instead of empty promises that you know you cannot uphold.”
Pushing out my jaw, I trace the lines of it as I fidget. Realizing what I’m doing, I force my hands behind my back, squeezing my fingers together. “Do you really think a solution exists?”
A gentleness passes through her eyes. I’ve seen it before, this tenderness she offers me with such rarity. The years haven’t softened her, but the tragedies we’ve shared have created moments like this where her emotions rise to the surface.
“I do,” she says. “And I believe you’ll find it with Galina.”
I’m no longer the wild boy who needs a firm hand. I’ve grown into a man tortured by his many sins, a man who forgets he has a heart.
I’m grateful Ulyana is here to remind me.
Sometime later, I leave my office to seek out Galina. The conversation with Ulyana still plays through my head on a loop. The last thing I want is to inspire fear in my household. Respect, yes, but fear was never my goal.
But the secrets ... Whatever the reason for them, they must stop.
Scraping my nails over my neck, I walk quietly through my hallway. The staff has gone off to bed; I’m the only source of noise. Each of my steps echoes in my ears. As loud as it seems to me in the night, my inner voice is louder.
Why does it bother me so much that Galina lied to me? It goes beyond a basic sense of insult. Nobody wants to be lied to, least of all me, but what she did has remained lodged in my belly like a burr the size of a plum.
I pull up short before I turn the corner near her bedroom.
