Page 33 of Dark King Daddy

“You could have.”

“He works for an ally.”

“There is always duty. Always a practical reason. You saved a man, Daniil. You could let it mean something.”

“It was just to prevent a war.”

Her expression changed. The warmth withdrew.

“Of course,” she said.

“You make a habit of analyzing people you barely know?”

Her eyes flashed. “I’ve known you for years, Daniil. You just never noticed.”

“That isn’t true. You don’t know me. We’re acquaintances. Nothing more.”

Silence.

I heard the music below us. The muted vibration of pipes in the walls. A glass set down somewhere behind the Birch Room door.

Ksenia stared at me.

“If we’re just acquaintances,” she said, voice barely louder than a whisper, “why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me out of this dress and into your bed.”

“I—”

“I think you’ve done more than notice me, Daniil. I think you’ve thought about me. Wondered about me. Fantasized about me.”

She was right. I had noticed her.

At every dinner. Every funeral. Every formal room where she stood beside her family and made difficult people feel easier.

I remembered dresses. Expressions. The way she listened. The time she laughed during a New Year toast and covered her mouth because Mikhail was speaking.

I remembered asking Anton whether she was still studying because speaking to her directly had seemed too revealing.

Cowardice presented as indifference.

Her lips parted.

It would be easy, so easy to lean in and capture them.

And that’s the exact moment that the lights went out.

Darkness did not remove the corridor. It reduced it to memory.

Birch Room door at my right.

Stone pillar four steps behind me.

Ksenia directly ahead.

East stair twelve meters away.