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Chessa won’t be evaded. “What Uncle Kristian does in his own house is up to him, but I feel like he’s undermining your father’s authority and mine by having secret conversations with you.”
It’s like she’s implying there’s something inappropriate about Uncle Kristian and me simply talking to each other in Russian. We’re doing what he and Dad have done together a million times when my brothers and sisters are in the room.
“We talk about Belyaev business. It’s important that the kids don’t overhear what we’re talking about because they might get scared.”
Chessa fixes me with a concerned expression. “You’re a kid, too, Zenya. You’re sixteen and still in school. I feel like your uncle forgets that sometimes.”
Good.
I want him to forget it.
“Secrets are important to Belyaevs,” I say quietly, twisting the corner of a sheet with my fingers. It makes me uncomfortable to argue with Chessa because she’s only ever been kind to me, but she should know by now that a lot of our business has to be done in secret because it’s dangerous and illegal.
“I’m not talking about family business. I’m talking about you and Kristian.”
I frown at her. “What about me and Uncle Kristian?”
“You two are always whispering to each other. I have to say your name ten times before you notice anyone in the room but him. If it were up to me, that man would learn some boundaries if he wanted to keep entering foot in this house.”
“What boundaries?” I ask, confused by the idea that someone in our family would attempt to tell Uncle Kristian what to do when he does so much for all of us.
Chessa passes an exasperated hand over her brow. “A grown man shouldn’t have secret little talks with a sixteen-year-old girl, even if she is his niece. It’s not natural. Hasn’t he got anything better to do?”
As much as I love Chessa, I feel anger spark to life in my chest, though I struggle not to give in to it and raise my voice. I was wondering whether to tell her where I’m going with Uncle Kristian tomorrow night, but now I know I won’t be volunteering the information.
“I’m not really interested in what’s natural. I haven’t had a very natural upbringing, remember?”
Of course she remembers. She was there, and she should also remember that Uncle Kristian and I are the reason things didn’t get much worse that night. It could have been carnage.
Well, it was.
Just not for the Belyaevs.
“And as for him having better things to do, how can you be so ungrateful, Chessa? Who’s been looking after all of us while Dad’s been sick?”
Chessa takes a deep breath as if she’s struggling to keep her own temper under control. “I just worry about you, Zenya. I feel as if your father and Kristian made a mistake sharing so much with you at such a young age. Fourteen was too young to—”
“That wasn’t their decision, was it?” It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I’m glad it happened, but that would be cruel considering what that night did to Chessa and my older brothers and sisters. They all still have nightmares about it.
My stepmother shakes her head sadly. “No, it wasn’t.”
I reach forward and take her hand. “I’m fine, and I’m happy with the way things are. But thank you for worrying about me.”
Chessa doesn’t look happy, but she kisses me goodnight and leaves me to sleep. I lay down, pulling the blankets up and snuggling them around my chin.
With my eyes closed, I run through my plans for the following day. I’ll see Dad before his surgery and then I have school, which will be dull, but there’s nothing I can do about that. In the afternoon, I’ll head over to the Silo and take inventory, and then after dinner—I smile in the darkness—I’ll be doing some real Belyaev work with Uncle Kristian.
Uncle Kristian will be giving orders and I’ll be standing by his side, which is exactly where I crave to be, always.
4
Kristian
The moment I step foot in Troian’s house on New Year’s Eve, Chessa locks hostile eyes with me. She’s standing with her sister, Eleanor, and both sisters are wearing spangled party dresses and high heels. I can tell that Chessa has confided every terrible thing I’ve done lately to her beloved Eleanor by the way the sisters glare at me like I’m the big, bad wolf who’s come to blow the house down.
They can give me as many sulky bitch looks as they want. Troian’s the one in charge in this house, and I’m his beloved brother, so Chessa can kiss my ass.
“There’s my scoundrel of a brother.” Troian’s voice booms out across the living room. The crowd parts, and I see him seated in a recliner with his leg in a cast extended in front of him. “Kristian’s always breaking rules, and now he’s breaking bones as well. Have you been causing trouble tonight, Kristian?”
