Page 105

He gasps. “You ate passengers.”

“They were delicious.”

Oksana covers a laugh with her hand as I slide the pan into the oven. The inner family suite is brighter than the west wing, with courtyard light coming through broad windows into the sitting area and kitchen. Misha’s bedroom stands open beyond the couch, full of yellow curtains, picture books, cars, blocks, and the green dinosaur seated on his pillow like a guard who has eaten too much. A connecting door leads directly from his room to mine, with reinforced glass across its upper half so I can check his bed without opening it.

The secured main door opens, and Alexei steps into the suite while two guards remain outside. I know more are stationed farther down the passage.

Alexei fills most of the doorway. His black trousers sit low on his hips, and his dark shirt is open at the collar, showing the hard line of his throat and a glimpse of ink across his chest. His sleeves are pushed to his forearms, exposing the tattoos and thick veins along his forearms. I look at his mouth and almost forget why I’m annoyed with him.

He checks the windows, the kitchen, Oksana, and me before settling his attention on Misha. He keeps both hands at his sides. I see the effort it costs him not to cross the kitchen, lift Misha off the counter, and hold him.

Misha waves a yogurt-covered spoon. “Papa, Mama ate people.”

Alexei looks at the bitten apple. “Were they enemies?”

“Passengers.”

“Then it’s a serious offense.”

I take the spoon from Misha before he can decorate Alexei’s shirt. “How are you?” I ask him.

“Good.”

“Useless answer.”

“It’s short.”

“Since I’m apparently not leaving this part of the house because you think it’s safer, don’t you think I should have my equipment and medication here so I can check you?”

Alexei studies me. His gaze stays on my face long enough to turn the kitchen warmer.

“It’ll be arranged,” he says.

“Today.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Oksana lifts Misha from the counter. “Wash hands before breakfast.”

Misha looks at Alexei. “You too.”

Alexei glances at his clean hands. “I already did.”

Misha points toward the sink. “Again.”

Alexei walks to the sink without argument.

We eat in the sitting area because Misha wants to see the courtyard while he works through the baked eggs. He sits cross-legged on the rug with his plate on the low table, while Oksana watches from one end of the couch. Alexei takes the chair beside the window. I sit across from him with coffee and a hospital phone balanced on my knee.

Misha eats three bites, parks the yellow car beside his fork, and tells it to wait.

At eight, Oksana taps the clock. “Let’s go play, Misha.”

Misha sighs like a man. He gathers the yellow car, the green dinosaur, and two books.

“Your room,” Oksana says.

He looks at me.