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Niko brightened when he saw her, though he looked surprised she’d shown up at all. Her father offered both scruffy cheeks for her to kiss. Her heart briefly soared at the way his cheeks pulled up in a quick smile, just for her.
Anastazja greeted them without looking at Magda, though she was persistently aware of the witch’s hard stare drilling her from the side.
“Dobryzen, Ota,” she said as she took her seat.
“Dobryzen, Pjika. We missed you last night,” Arkhady said before spooning porridge into his mouth. “Magda said you were unwell.”
That’s one way of putting it.Anastazja waited for the attendant to fill her bowl before speaking. “Opros, Ota. I had supper in town.”
“What did you have, Ana?” Niko asked. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, something he’d only started doing again recently. It was one of many little tells that he was regressing back into boyhood, a tragedy made worse by the slow breakdown of their once-unshakable twin bond. “We had roast pork last night. The skin was so crisp and delectable!” Niko’s entire face erupted into a tableau of joy.
“Such a good boy, aren’t you, Niko? Always eating everything on your plate. Doing as you’re told. Your father’s perfect little gentleman. Could there be a better son?” Magda clucked her tongue in approval. Her spoon scraped the bowl in grating passes. “I’ve asked the kitchens to make it again tonight for our perfect little gentleman.”
Niko’s mouth parted in overdone wonder. “Really? For me?”
“For you, sweet boy.”
“Hvala, Magda!”
“Oma, Nikolaj,” Magda stated, correcting him.
“Oma.” Niko grinned wide.
Anastazja wanted to hurl and scream. At the same time.
“Feeling better this morning, then?” Arkhady asked. Though he was looking at Anastazja, his eyes were as glazed, as they always were lately. She thought of them as a window to his trapped soul. But the framing was made of solid stone, and she had no tools to chip it away. “If you’re still unwell, Pjika, perhaps you can help Magda tomorrow instead.”
“No,” Magda barked, revealing—too quickly for most to notice—a hairline crack in her curated facade. “Ana is fine, aren’t you, love? Youwantto come help me in the observatory. Isn’t that what you said last night when I came to your room to nurse you? Practically begged me not to count you out.”
Anastazja stabbed her porridge with her spoon. “I couldn’t possibly refuse.”
“She’s never shied away from work,” Arkhady said. He dabbed at his mouth with his usual faraway look. Tears pooled under his lids. “Takes after her oma.”
“Magda is ouromanow,” Niko said brightly. He held the handle of his spoon in his fist, like a toddler. “How fortunate we are.”
“That’s right, love. And I would do anything for my dear children, wouldn’t I?” Magda folded her hand atop Niko’s forearm. Anastazja glimpsed the bony, gnarled fingers she hid through illusions. “One day, when Ana has... moved on... It will be your turn to help me in the observatory.”
Anastazja’s spoon dropped into her bowl with a clang, loud enough everyone should have looked her way, but no one did.
Niko puffed up with an exuberant breath in. “Really? You promise?”
“Promise, darling boy.” Magda squeezed his arm before withdrawing hers. She slithered it back to her lap.
Arkhady stared at the fire crackling in the hearth, his spoon frozen midway to his mouth. He seemed to be somewhere else. Wherever it was, he went there often.
Anastazja liked to think it was the one place he was safe from Magda.
Unfortunately, she knew better.
“Did you hear, dearest? The Vuk od Varem has ended,” Magda said. “The Castel boy didn’t make it.”
Magda’s spirited delivery ofdidn’t make itdid nothing to lighten the horror of her revelation. Another son of Witchwood Cross lost to the wulves, like Stepan. Another springtide when their people would be forced to pay huge markups on imported meat because the local forests weren’t theirs for hunting—those who could afford to pay extra anyway. The others would ration their storage of dried boar and elk-kind and pray for a better year.
“I’m very sorry to hear it,” Arkhady said with a low nod. “We’ll dig into our coffers. There’s enough for us to purchase rations for the entire Cross, for a season at least.”
“Waste of gold,” Magda muttered. No one but Anastazja seemed to hear.
“I’ll see that it’s done, Ota,” Anastazja said with a cool sideways glance at her stepmother.
