She was rapidly losing her ability to pretend, so Petra pitched her voice low and hoped it came out as a private whisper rather than a croak when she said, “Thank you, Antonin. You’re too generous with me.”
“For Glory’s rising star? My dear, you deserve far more than gold.” His smile was sharp under the perfect curl of his gray-streaked mustache. “But we’ll discuss that over dinner.”
“Of course. We’ll be taking our meal in the belltower, since it has the best view of the city.” It was also the most remote part of the cathedral, which would hopefully give Silas plenty of time and space to do what he’d promised.
Antonin arched a brow. The look was teasing, but too practiced to come off as anything other than predatory. “Not your suite?”
Gods, no.The thought of inviting that man into her private space, even knowing it had been invaded by him already, made her gorge rise.
Summoning a slight, private smile, she replied, “My suite is in the heart of the staff living quarters. I believed you’d prefer more privacy than that.”
Antonin shot her a cheeky wink. “Clever girl.”
Truly unable to stomach more, Petra accepted his praise with a nod and turned to go. She hadn’t made it more than a handful of steps before his voice stopped her.
“Petra?”
She turned her head, but couldn’t make her body face him. “Yes?”
His eyes were dark when he commanded her, “Wear something beautiful. It’s an important night. I want to make it special.”
Bile really did threaten to make its appearance then. Petra swallowed a mouthful of excess saliva before answering. “Of course. It will be… very special. I can’t wait.”
It was with a shocking splash of bitter disappointment that Petra discovered her room was empty.
Silas, where are you?
Surely it was a good sign that he’d made himself scarce, but she’d gotten used to having him in her space. It was unsettling to get ready without the weight of his attention on her at all times. She’d somehow even gotten used to the feeling of his shadows writhing around her legs like seeking hands.
It was disorienting to find herself suddenly unscrutinized as she pulled her white cocktail dress out of her closet and slipped it on. A part of her desperately wanted to take a second to breathe, maybe even sit on the edge of her bed and stare into the middle distance for a while, but she worried that if she gave in to the impulse, she wouldn’t be able to force herself back out the door.
The secret passageway hidden in the back of her closet taunted her.
You could run,it said.Max wouldn’t blame you. He’d tell you to save yourself, that this isn’t worth it. He’d want you to live.
But the fact that Max wasn’t there to tell her that himself was the whole reason she’d gotten into this mess. And every time she thought of simply slipping into the night and disappearing with all the money he’d set aside just for this situation, she remembered the shaky way he sounded when he confided his suspicions that something horrible was about to happen.
The scared little girl in her, beaten, starved, and feral, hissed from the safety of her hiding place in Petra’s mind,I’m going to finish what you started, dyadya Matvei.
So she didn’t take whatever chance remained to escape her fate. Instead, she did as so many women in her place had done before: she got ready for her date.
She curled her hair. She washed her face. She carefully applied her makeup — neither too much nor too little. She slipped her feet into red heels, the toes sharp points tipped with gold, and said a short prayer for her feet on the one hundred and fifty steps they would climb up to the belltower.
When there was no part of her left to primp, prune, or decorate, Petra stared at her reflection for several seconds. An unknown woman stared back at her.
“For Matvei,” she mouthed. Even then, when he was nothing but dust and crushed bone, she couldn’t bring herself to betray him by speaking his real name aloud. Petra had always been fiercely loyal. That intensity had nowhere to go now, but…
She swallowed hard as she curled her fingers around the gold charm Silas had crafted for her. The back of her nose stung with unshed tears. A deep pang of grief struck her — not for her uncle, but for the fact that she hadn’t gotten to see Silas’s violent smile, those molten eyes, or that stupid little beauty mark above his lip one last time.
There’s no loyalty between us, but there’s trust. Just enough.
Petra turned away from the mirror. Her heels clicked on the old wooden floor as she made her way back to her closet for a light coat. Summer nights were always unpredictable in San Francisco, and she didn’t want to die shivering in the wind.
Swinging the closet door open, she stepped inside to grab her favorite white coat off its hanger. Her fingers had just closed around the soft wool collar when the light vanished.
Shock held her there for the span of heartbeat, but she didn’t get the chance to recover, let alone fight. Without warning, the darkness yanked her forward, squashing her into the clothing with a rattle of hangers. Petra squawked, her body instinctively thrashing to throw off an assailant that didn’t truly exist.
“Sil—”His name was cut off by a clinging film of shadows covering her mouth. Behind her, the closet door swung shut. Petra screamed into the dark, but the sound was trapped in her throat.
