“Sit, sit,” Roman gestures. “I’m just finishing up with some details for my bride’s sister.”
Anya.
Something triggers my radar.
"She's going to Paris. Art school. That was the arrangement, yes?"
"Change of plans." Roman’s smile makes my skin crawl. "I've arranged a better match for her. Artem Trotsky. He's been looking for a wife, and the alliance would strengthen our position in the northern territories."
The name hits me like ice water. The man is sixty years old. And like Roman, his past wives have mysteriously died. Before Idied, there were rumors about Artem. He was known for breaking young women.
"She's nineteen," I say carefully.
"Perfect age." Roman pours himself scotch. "Young enough to mold. Old enough to be useful. He’s willing to pay handsomely for the connection."
"Kira agreed to marry you so Anya could go to Paris. That was the deal."
"Deals change." Roman's smile sharpens. "Kira needs to understand that her compliance determines her sister's fate. If she's difficult during the transition—if she makes problems—then Anya's situation becomes less pleasant. If she's cooperative, we can revisit the Paris arrangement later."
It's brilliant strategy. Ruthless and effective. Using Anya as an ongoing leverage point instead of releasing her.
It's also monstrous.
"Trotsky will destroy her," I hear myself say.
"Probably." Roman shrugs. "But that's not our concern. Our concern is consolidating power and ensuring Kira's cooperation. This arrangement accomplishes both."
I should agree. Should see this as another tool to break Kira. She loves her sister—everyone knows it. Watching Anya marry a sadist will destroy her.
That's what I want. Isn't it?
"When?" I ask.
"Week after my wedding. Strike while the iron is hot." Roman raises his glass. "To family alliances."
I don't drink.
I'm seeing Anya's face from six years ago. Fifteen years old, braiding flowers into Kira's hair at a family gathering. Both of them laughing. Anya looking at her older sister with pure adoration.
I remember thinking they were lucky to have each other. To have that bond. Their father was a piece of shit. Their mother long dead. Anya and Kira were close because they were all one another had. I didn’t know that kind of relationship.
Well, I thought I did.
I remember Anya asking me about wedding plans. Excited about being in the ceremony. Asking if she could paint something for our reception.
She was innocent.Sweet. Everything this world usually destroys.
"Problem?" Roman asks, watching me.
"No problem." I force the words out. "Smart strategy."
I get to my feet and walk out of the office. I feel something I haven't felt since my return—guilt.
Kira deserves pain. Deserves to lose everything like I lost everything.
But Anya? What did she do except be born into the wrong family?
I tell myself it doesn't matter. That collateral damage is inevitable. That I would have given my life for Kira once, but she took it. There's a difference between sacrifice and theft.
