"Hide her, my son. Keep her far away until you’ve dealt with your uncle."
"Papa," I object, but I’m not sure what I’m objecting to. Hiding a grown woman who doesn’t even know she has become the sole reason my heart beats? Or the thought of dealing with my uncle, whatever that means?
"Hide her until I am gone. Hide her until you have the room and the men. Hide her, Nikolai, or bury her. Those are the only options he will leave you."
I sit with him until the room is dark and Lucia has come and gone twice. The oxygen machine has been adjusted and the IV has been changed. His breathing is slower now. Steadier than when I arrived. I don't know whether this is an improvement or the thing before the thing.
At some point, without opening his eyes, he squeezes my hand again.
"Mikhail," he says. "Tell him he did not stitch you for free because he owes me his life. Tell him he stitched you for free because you are my son."
"Yes, Papa."
"Go," he says. "You have work."
"I will stay."
"Go. Do the work. Come back tomorrow."
I kiss his forehead and leave the room.
Viktor is in the library. The light is on under the door, but I don’t go in. I walk down the stairs passing Lucia in the hall, and I hand her a folded piece of paper with two numbers on it, mine and Dmitri's, and I tell her to call either of them the second anything changes. She nods. She has been my father's nurse for six months and I know she is paid well and is loyal. I’m still going to triple her pay tomorrow in case anyone comes to her with a quieter offer.
