This is for Anya’s sake.
Ice floods my veins. "What kind of discussions?"
"The kind that secure our position. Restore our name." He cuts his meat with precise, deliberate movements. "He's made a very generous offer."
"Generous,” I echo, my voice dripping with mockery.
My father doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know I’ve already reached out to Roman. No one will make deals for me.
I smile at him. It’s a cold, calculating smile meant to remind of his place. "WhenIspoke to him this afternoon, he gave me until midnight to accept. That was the deal—I marry him, or he takes Anya."
"Actually," my father says with his own smug smile, "I've already agreed on Anya's behalf. She'll marry him instead. The contracts are signed."The room spins. "You did what?"
"I made a business decision—"
"You sold her!" I'm on my feet, my chair clattering backward. "You sold your nineteen-year-old daughter to a man who kills his wives!"
"Kira—" Anya's voice is small, terrified.
"He doesn't kill them," my father protests weakly. "They died of natural—"
"Three wives, all dead before thirty, all of mysterious causes." I lean across the table, getting in his face. "He's a fucking monster, and you handed Anya to him like she's nothing more than a business transaction!"
"Watch your language at my table—"
"Your table?" The laugh that tears out of me is harsh enough to draw blood. "I paid for this table! I paid for this house, this food, your pathetic lifestyle! I rebuilt everything you destroyed, and this is how you repay me?"
Anya is crying now, silent tears streaming down her face. The sight of it breaks something in my chest that I've been holding together with rage. Even with all the power I’ve gained, I’m still a woman. A daughter. My father still has the final decision over Anya’s future.
"Kira, please—" My father reaches for me, and I jerk away like his touch burns.
"Don't." The word comes out deadly quiet. "Don't you dare touch me."
I turn to Anya, whose whole body is shaking. She looks so young in this moment—still the little girl who used to braid flowers into my hair and dream about painting in Paris. Still innocent despite growing up in this world.
"Anyechka." I crouch beside her chair, taking her cold hands in mine. "Look at me, baby. Look at me."
She does, her eyes huge and terrified.
"I won't let this happen," I promise her. "Do you understand? I will not let him touch you."
"But Papa said—"
"Papa is a coward and a fool." I don't bother lowering my voice. Let him hear it. "He doesn't get to make decisions about your life. Not anymore."
"The contracts are legal," my father insists. "Binding. I have every right—"
"You have no rights!" I round on him with such fury that he actually flinches back. "You lost your rights when you gambled away our future! When you drove us into debt so deep I had to claw my way out with blood and violence! You're only still breathing because you share DNA with Anya, and I won't break her heart by killing you!"
"Kira!" Anya gasps.
But it's true, and we all know it. My father's face goes white.
"If you refuse to honor the agreement—"
"Oh, I'll honor it." The words are harsh. "But not the way you think."
I straighten, smoothing down my blouse, rebuilding my armor piece by piece. The Ice Queen doesn't break at family dinners. She doesn't show weakness. She calculates and strategizes and finds the path through the fire.
