“That is not what I concern myself with,” I answer finally. My gaze stays on the blanket as if it holds safer truths than her waiting eyes. “Her happiness is not required.”
She is quiet for a beat.
“But people who are not happy,” she presses, “they leave. Like…Mommydid.”
Her words land heavier than they should.
She has asked before. Those times, the questions were easy to dismiss. Not tonight. Tonight, they draw blood.
She does not remember Irina. She was too small when her mother vanished from this house. Too young to understand what it is to have a mother at all. She has only ever known a house of men and servants. Cold rooms. Lessons. Duty.
I let my breath ease out, though my chest tightens with the memory of betrayal.
“I do not know,” I answer honestly. “It is too soon to tell.”
Alya pauses, studying me. Then, with that sharpness I have never been able to blunt, she presses on.
“If she is happy, can she take me to school? Like you promised, when I got older?”
My fingers go still against the quilt.
“Lev and Nikolai go to school,” she adds quickly, sensing my hesitation. “But I never had anyone to take me.”
She lifts her favorite stuffed bear from beside her pillow, its fur worn from too many nights clutched tight. She grips it by the ears now, like she’s bracing herself for my answer.
This—this simple, childish bravery—is what unravels me.
“You think you are older now,solnyshko?” I ask, my voice lower than before.
She nods, determined. “Old enough.”
Her eyes do not waver from mine.
I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of her hope settle against my ribs like iron.
“I will think about it,” I answer at last, my hand settling briefly over hers, still clutching the bear.
Alya’s face brightens, but she reins it in, masking her hope with a careful nod. Too wise for her years.
“Bella knows how to use guns, so she can protect me,” she points out, quick and sharp. “And I’m as clever as Lev. If she takes me to school, I’ll be ready.”
My mouth almost twitches.
“You think that makes you ready for the outside world?” I ask, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.
“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “If Bella comes with me.”
She knows exactly how to aim the shot.
I let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of her hope settle heavy across my chest.
“We will see,” I answer at last, my voice rougher than I intended. “If she’s willing… and if you are truly ready… perhaps.”
Alya brightens but reins it in, keeping her expression carefully controlled. Clever girl.
“Good,” she says softly. “She will take me to school, then.”
I smooth a curl away from her cheek, my thumb brushing lightly over her temple.
