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My father walks out of the room with his head held high. But he might as well have a tail tucked between his legs.
The balance has permanently shifted.
Anya waits until the front door clicks shut behind him before she turns to me, mouth hanging open. “Are you the fucking don now? Is that—Is that what just happened?”
“It was a step,” I tell her. “A lot of formalities need to happen between now and—”
Anya throws her arms around me, squeezing my middle. “Thank God. It’s about damn time.”
Reluctantly, I pat her back.
When she pulls away, Anya smiles up at me. “So…?”
“So what?”
She rolls her eyes, frustrated by my obtuseness. “Now that you have that off your back, you can start making plans. Arrangements.”
I know what she means. Of course I do.
My father wanted me to marry before he handed over the leadership role. That’s the only reason I attended the party where I met Cora. It’s the only reason Cora isn’t under my roof right now—in my bed.
Now, I’m in charge. New leadership. New rules.
“I don’t have any arrangements to make,” I say.
Anya stares at me for a long time. So long that I almost say something, just to break the silence. It’s like we’re in a play and I’ve forgotten my line.
Finally, she speaks.
“It was really noble of you to make that deal with Otets for me,” she says softly. “You don’t like big emotional displays, so I’ve tried not to make one, but…it means everything to me that you wanted me to be happy. You handed over your opportunity for a happy marriage so that I could be with Lev. I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”
“You don’t need to repay me for—”
“But,” she interrupts sharply, “if you sacrifice yourself now, when it’s no longer necessary, you aren’t a hero—you’re a coward.”
With that, my sister, who never knows when she’s overstaying her welcome, makes a timely exit.
77
CORA
Jorden’s pull-out bed is a torture device.
The mattress is more iron springs than foam padding and it squeals like someone is slaughtering a pig every time I roll over. I’m positive the guards are going to bust in any second to check for ax murderers.
After an hour of tossing and turning, I give up and go lie on the lumpy couch cushions instead. Jorden is snoring up a storm from the master bedroom.
But I still can’t sleep.
Maybe I’ve gotten used to higher class living. Maybe I’m a snob now. Top-of-the-line memory foam mattresses and gajillion thread count sheets are the only way I can get comfortable.
Or maybe spending nights with Ivan asleep next to me has ruined me for the rest of forever. Maybe I’ll never be able to forget him. No matter how far I run.
That thought is scarier than any nightmare I could imagine.
I bolt out of bed and grab my phone. I don’t even know what my plan is until I type in Francia’s name.
It’s late, but she answers right away. “Cora? Is everything okay?”
