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Chapter 23
Mischa runs the children ragged until they barely have the strength to make it to the upstairs sitting room before collapsing into respective corners.
“I’ll get them some water,” Anna suggests. Smiling, she hustles toward the stairs.
Funnily enough, even Mischa looks winded. He pants while meeting my gaze and rakes the sweat-soaked hair from his face. “What are you thinking behind those judging little eyes, Rose?”
I turn away, spotting Eli curled on his side, deeply asleep. Across from him, poor Mouse is struggling to keep her eyes open. The dirt and mud streaking their faces are clues as to the kind of “games” they were playing.
“I’m thinking that you have a very strange idea of playtime.”
Knife fighting, war drills, and escape lessons.
“And what should we be doing instead?” Mischa asks, crossing his arms. “Playing with dollies and tea parties?”
“Maybe.”
He frowns. “Maybe it’s you that has a strange idea of playtime.”
“If all you teach them is violence and war, then all you can see in their future is violence and war,” I explain, gesturing toward Mouse. She’s fully asleep now, huddled against the wall, but her posture remains tense. Guarded. As if she expects an attack at any moment. “And maybe it’s naïve, and foolish, and stupid, but…”
“What?” he prods when I fall silent. I look over, surprised by the stern tilt to his jaw. He’s curious.
“I think it’s braver to imagine a future for them in which their only fear is pouring the tea wrong or wearing an outdated dress to dinner. Is that so wrong?”
Maybe it is—shallow in a sense.
But while I always resented Briar’s vain upbringing, there was a comfort in it that I envied more than anything.
She never had to evade her father’s men or jump on the first offer of security thrown her way. She never saw safety as a commodity worth trading her soul for.
“I don’t want to fear for them.” I brush my hand along my stomach before I can help it. “I’d ratherhopefor them.”
“And what does hope lie in?” he counters, though I don’t think he’s mocking me. His tone is way too soft. “Piano lessons and etiquette classes?”
I shrug. “Maybe. Or in someplace where they can feel safe. A home. One they don’t have to worry might be invaded—”
“Rose.” His posture shifts and he becomes the imposing soldier once more.
I turn to the doorway and see why. Sergei stands there, flanked by Vanya.
“Sorry to interrupt,” the older man says. Dressed in black, he radiates an authority even Mischa reacts to by gritting his teeth. “But something has come up that may draw your interest.”
“What is it?” Mischa demands.
“Since Ellen decided our course of action, I think I may have the perfect opportunity in mind for you to fulfill it.”
Mischa stiffens. “Fine. But then she can hear the details as well.” He gestures toward me with a wave of his hand.
“Of course.” Sergei extends his arm in a silent invitation to follow. “I don’t object.”
“I’ll stay here,” Anna suggests, appearing beside her father. Her eyes go to Eli and she smiles. “If I can wake them up, I’ll send the children off to bed.”
“Fine.” Mischa shoulders past me and enters the hall. “Let’s hear it, then.”
“As you wish.” Sergei pulls ahead and descends the stairs. Leading the way, he approaches the larger drawing room off the foyer.
Mischa and Vanya form a guarded audience along the wall while Sergei stands in the middle.
