Page 153 of Betrayal and Vows

"Those pictures you found," she says, her voice cutting through the sound of our boots on the rocky path. "How many were there?"

I adjust my grip on the walking stick I carved this morning. "A lot. Twenty. Thirty. Maybe more."

"From when you were a child?"

"Some. Most were from the last twenty-five years." I pause to help her over a fallen log. “All this time I thought I was invisible—he was watching."

"What do you think he was doing?" she asks finally. "I mean, what was the point? If he knew who you were, why not just kill you?"

It's the question that's been eating at me since I found those files. "I don't know. Vadim always thinks he's three steps ahead of everyone else. Maybe he was waiting for the perfect moment. Maybe he enjoyed the game."

"Or maybe he needed you alive for something."

The thought has occurred to me. Vadim doesn't keep people around without a reason. "Maybe."

We climb in silence for another half hour. The path is getting steeper, more treacherous. I can hear Lena's breathing getting heavier, but she doesn't complain.

"Do you think he knew?" she asks suddenly. "About Mikhail's guards trying to kill you at the wedding?"

I stop walking and turn to look at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if Vadim was watching you so closely, if he knew everything you were doing—did he know Mikhail was going to try to murder you?" Her blue eyes are intense. "Or was that Mikhail acting on his own?"

"I don't know," I admit. "But it's a good question."

"Because if Vadim knew and let it happen, that means he was ready to let you die. His own son." She shakes her head. "But if he didn't know; if Mikhail was acting without permission..."

"Then Mikhail just signed his own death warrant," I finish. "Vadim doesn't tolerate disobedience. Especially not from someone he wants to be his heir."

"But Mikhail isn't his heir. You are."

"Mikhail doesn't know that. And Vadim has spent thirty years building him up, grooming him." I start walking again,my mind racing. "Unless that was part of the plan too. Build up a false heir, then tear him down when the real one reveals himself."

"God, your father is sick."

"He's not my father," I say automatically. "Biology doesn't make a man your father."

Lena catches up to me, her hand briefly touching my arm. "You're right. I'm sorry."

We walk until the sun begins to set. I find a place to set up our camp. We don’t have a tent. It’ll just be us under the stars.

I build a small fire while Lena does her best to make us a small bed.

As night falls, we each eat another sandwich.

We don’t have a lot to say. We’re both lost in our own thoughts.

Lena leans into me. Her head rests against my shoulder.

"You ever done anything like this?" she asks.

"Hike?”

“This. A trek. All of it.”

“We were sent out for a week at a time,” I tell her.

“During your training?”