Page 35 of The Agreement

Not things she wanted to do.

She had always simply accepted it as part of her life. What it meant to be a Yazov girl—the forgotten daughter of a mere man made into a king.

A very cold king.

Besides, there was nobody she could pose a question to. Masha certainly wouldn’t have the answers.

They stepped out of her bedroom together into what was an attached living area to her section of rooms. This wing of the Yazov mansion was just hers, an ecosystem for Masha and Karine to live in together, surrounded by a handful of housekeepers and the men who kept watch from a respectable distance as to not intrude more than they needed to.

It wasn’t like they worried about her running.

Who would she run to?

On the table near the kitchen counter, where Karine usually had her meals, she spotted some drawings strewn everywhere. She didn’t recognize them and stopped to look. At first they appeared to be violent scribbles, like something a child would draw if given some crayons and color pencils to go wild with.

“Where did these come from?” Karine asked, her hand trembling from the after-effects of too much alcohol and mixed medications, as she held the drawings closer. “Isn’t that ...”

Vaguely, she recognized the hastily drawn faces of the people on the page—the rage twisting expressions dark between the men made her blink to take in the image again. On one of the drawings, the name Katee had been written on the top-right corner like a signature—the signature of a child if the loopy writing could be trusted.

Katee.

Masha was at her side before she could ask again, already plucking the drawings from her hand and pulling her away from the table toward the door. “Your father is waiting—today isn’t the day to be late, Karine.”

She spoke sweetly.

The words said it all, though.

Masha acted like nothing was amiss.

Nothing new to see.

Karine glanced back at the trashcan where Masha stuffed the drawings as they passed. “But—”

“Your eyes look a little cloudy,” Masha interjected, bringing her attention right back in an instant.

Weren’t eyes supposed to be the windows to the soul? Did the emptiness in hers mean she didn’t have one of those left, either?

“Maybe I can help with that—something to perk you up before you start your day?”

Even though there was a part of Karine that wondered what the rest of her day would look like if she didn’t take the pill—the present, more prevalent part of her instinctively brightened at the possibility of Prozac. One of her caretaker’s favorite medications to keep on hand because Karine preferred it in the daytime.

Masha made one appear seemingly out of nowhere, offering it without a second thought. Karine popped one in her mouth and gulped it back dry, enjoying the chalky bitterness it brought to the back of her tongue.

It really shouldn’t be mixed with liquor.

Or a hangover.

And yet ...

Karine had never once questioned where the medication came from or how it was available in such great quantity seeing as how Masha never ran out.

Why did it have to matter?

Life was better this way.

Easier.

The world owed her it.