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“Are you okay?” Jenya whispers, putting her warm hand on my shoulder.
The men are gone. I’m standing in the middle of the room, staring. I can’t form words, all of my goals forgotten.
“Child.” Koschei stands up, making me flinch. “You’ve been gone for so long. I’m glad you’re with us.”
He steps forward, and I step back.
“We’re about to have breakfast,” he continues, as if he can’t see the horror in my eyes. I was dumb to think I was over my fear of him. He is branded on my bones. His sick heritage runs in my blood. How did I think I was stronger now? Why did I come here?
“Koschei,” Jenya says. “Tanya and I already prayed in our rooms, so we can eat right away. We’re both starving.”
Yes!Look at her.Ignore me.I will slip out for a cigarette when you’re not looking.Forget I exist.I just need to go under the tree.
The tree is gone.
The village is gone.
You betrayed them, remember?
“You sit down, Evgenya. I will deal with your sister.” Koschei’s voice turns cold.
I release a shuddering breath, as if I’ve been punched. Yes. This is the truth. My grandfather is a villain. An enemy. His sweet words of the days gone by trigger my past self, but his malevolence brings out my anger.
“I see you’re no longer eating slop.” My voice comes out shaking, but the fact that I manage the words out is a win in itself. My eyes flit across the room, ignoring his menacing presence in front of me. Two more people sit at the table, already eating. Not part of Koschei’s cult then. He wouldn’t allow such insubordination from his followers.
“Your English has improved,” he says.
“Oh, is it English now? I thought it was the holy language.” I narrow my eyes, my anger giving my words momentum. “It must be so humiliating to have to drop the pretense in front of outsiders. Is he your boss? I bet he calls you Greg.”
I nudge my head toward the middle-aged man at the table currently sipping on a tiny cup of coffee. Koschei’s nostrils flare and I clench my jaw in preparation.
His slap doesn’t have the same vigor as it used to. Or maybe my face is stronger. My head still snaps to one side and I taste blood from where my teeth dug into the inside of my cheek.This is it!
If I keep him angry, I will be able to oppose him. I’m Tanya, Love and Err’s floor manager now, and I’m used to entitled men.
“Hey, don’t hit her!” The young woman next to the man that I assume is Koschei’s boss doesn’t look like she’s enjoying the show.
“Quiet, Dawn.” The boss man doesn’t seem fazed.
I swallow the blood in my mouth and look Koschei dead in the eyes.
“You’re going to struggle to hurt me, old man.”
His lips pinch and I brace for his next hit, but it never comes. He turns on his heel and sits back down, his chest rising and falling like he’s barely controlling himself.
Whatever showdown this was, I won.
I sit down at the edge of the table, as far away as possible from Koschei. There are two seats between me and Jenya, who is sitting at his left side. On his right are the other man and the young woman.
She looks a bit older than Jenya but younger than me—probably late teens or early twenties. Her hair is pastel pink, her eyes are lined with sparkly lilac eyeliner, and her clothes all scream modern rich girl with an obsession with pastels. Her mint-colored dress is in stark contrast with Jenya’s drab shirt and skirts.
“Who are you?” I ask as my eyes roam her oval face and button nose.
“You’ve gotten quite rude,” Koschei remarks, cutting into a piece of ham like it’s his nemesis. Maybe he imagines it’s my neck.
“I’m Dawn,” the young woman says, unbothered. “You must try the Danish pastries. They’re divine!”
She bites into what looks like a chocolate-chip swirl and winks at me. I take one, put it on my plate, and start pulling small pieces of it, pretending to eat.
