“You need to go back upstairs,” he says.
“No.” I shake my head. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
“This isn’t the time.”
“Then make time!” I cry out. “Tell me if he’s hurt. Please. You don’t have to give me details, just tell me if he’s alive.”
He exhales through his nose. His jaw tightens. He doesn’t look as pissed as that night he caught me trying to run, but it’s a close second.
“Please.” I reach for his sleeve. “I need to?—”
His arm twists out of my reach. The motion is so sudden, I’m left blinking, grasping at air.
“Don’t touch me,” he snaps. His face has darkened. I realize, too late, he must think I’m trying to manipulate him again. “And stop asking questions. Go back to your room.”
For a second, my father’s voice overlaps with Luka’s.
Go back to your room.
My body shivers. I hate how patronizing that sounds. Like I’m the same little girl who wandered downstairs at the wrong time all those years ago.
Most of all, I hate how badly every instinct is telling me to obey.
But I can’t. Because Petyr might be hurt.
And if he’s hurt, he needs me.
I shake my head again and move to step past Luka. He blocks me easily. His broad shoulders fill the space between me and the door.
“Move,” I demand, though my voice trembles. “You can’t keep me in the dark like this.”
He takes a step forward, and I can see the muscle in his jaw twitch. “You don’t get it, do you? You being here only makes things harder. Go upstairs, Sima.”
“I’m not leaving until I know he’s okay!” The fear in my chest twists into something fierce.
Petyr might be cruel. He might act out, and cage me, and forget he’s supposed to treat me like an equal until reality slaps him hard in the face. But he’s still mine. I can’t just stand here while something might’ve happened to him.
And I sure as shit am not going back to my goddamn room.
I try to push past Luka again, but he catches my arm and forces me back a step. “Enough,” he growls. “You want to help him? Then stay the hell out of the way.”
The blood on his sleeve smears against my hand, warm and sticky. I stare at it.
My stomach turns.
What if it’s Petyr’s?
“Please,” I whisper. “Just tell me if?—”
He doesn’t answer this time. He just turns away while I’m mid-sentence and shouts more orders at the men rushing out the door.
Then he’s gone, too.
Ages pass like that, with me standing in nothing but my nightgown in the middle of the foyer. The cold from outside brushes past my ankles. I hug my shoulders, but it doesn’t help to ward off the shivers.
I could go outside and see it for myself. But if Petyr was really here, hurt and bleeding, then Luka would have dragged me back upstairs already.
I have no idea where he is. No way to find out. I’m powerless.
