"Nonsense, it's almost the witching hour." Sorin stands and spreads her hands down her apron. "We'll be up at the crack of dawn to get breakfast on. We need our rest." She bobs her head at the others, and they stand and start shuffling around, but I have no clue what I'm doing. I sit there like a bump on a log feeling lost as they move to separate dressers and weave around each other in the small space.
Sara sets the tea mugs in the sink and comes back to me, taking my hand as I rise from the chair. "You'll have your pick. There's a full bunk free…" She nods at the far wall, in the corner farthest from the door we came through, but as we walk that way, I see another door, closer to the bed. "When Sonya left, this bed opened up. She got married," she says dreamily, and then, "so you can choose top or bottom."
I swallow hard as I stare at the narrow, cot-like mattresses on a simple wooden frame and sigh. They're so simple, just slabs of foam so thin, I know my hips and back will hurt tomorrow, and I'm only twenty-two. How do these women do it every night?
At home I have a queen-sized bed made of down feathers and inner springs, on a four-poster bed frame with sheers draped around it to block out some light as the sun rises. I guess that'snot going to be a problem in this tiny dungeon they call a bedroom, but it just doesn’t feel like home.
"Problem?" Sara asks, and I force a smile immediately. I don’t want them to think I'm looking down on them. They’re the kindest, most giving souls I've ever met and they have next to nothing, but they’re sharing it.
"Not at all," I tell her. "I'll take the top."
"Good," Sara breathes and looks down at me, then back at the doorway. "You didn't bring a bag?"
"Unfortunately, no…" I look down at my own body and remember the last time I wore this dress to Papa's funeral. Seemed fitting to wear as I stole from Roman. I didn't assume I'd die, but it sure feels like death in some manner has taken place.
"Well, that's alright," she says, bustling over to a dresser on top of which the single light in this room perches. She opens a drawer and pulls out a cream-colored night dress and tosses it at me. "You can borrow it until your things arrive." Sara winks and turns her back, picking her own bed clothes out while I stare at the others who are clearly not shy. They stand in states of undress as they change into their pajamas, and I realize this must be what it's like for normal people. It makes me grateful again for my upbringing, though lately, it's become a bit of a joke.
As they turn off the lights, I change and drape my dress over the bottom bunk, then climb onto the top bunk and settle in with the thin wool blanket that scratches at my skin and bites into my cheeks. My body begins to relax, but my mind stays active long after snoring fills the room.
I think of trying to sneak out and go home, get my things, vanish into the night somewhere. But where would I go? Without access to my inheritance, I have no money to survive on my own, and Roman has enough resources and the reach it takes to find me anywhere.
It feels like Papa did this on purpose, which can't be right. But how else would I have found myself trapped by circumstances greater than myself? Maybe he left instructions for Vera to train me, or maybe she made that all up, and maybe it was his idea to go get that blasted ring, which Roman took back from me the instant he got into that car. Whatever the case, it was Papa's death that spurred this on, and he is the one who wrote into his will that I have to be married before I turn twenty-five, which is three short years away with no prospects, or I'll never see a dime of his money.
And maybe that's okay too.
Sorin, Sara, and Rebecca all seem to do fine here. They have little, but they have joy. And I could learn to live with as little as they have and be happy. All I've ever wanted was to be myself and be accepted as that. Which is something I will never have so long as Vera Koval is in charge of my father’s household.
Eventually, sleep claims me, but my mind stays active and dreams of escape seem as large as life. I just don’t think that's possible.
6
ROMAN
Yegor's already at the table when I come down for breakfast. He has coffee in front of him and a folder open beside his plate, which means he's been working since before I woke up. He looks up when I sit down and slides the folder across the table at me.
"The fighter reports from last night, Boss," he says. "There are four worth keeping, maybe five if you wanna take a chance on the one with the shoulder injury."
I open the folder and scan the first page to see their names and ages, medical reports. He's highlighted the important stuff for me. "What did Kazimir think?" I look up as Sorin sets a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me, then serves me a glass of orange juice, and politely backs away. I smile at her, nodding my thanks as Yegor answers me.
"He liked the one from Yekaterinburg. Said he moves well and takes hits without folding." He shoves a bite of food in his mouth and chews with his mouth open as I turn back to the folder.
"And Stepan?"
Yegor swallows hard and says, "Stepan wants the one who broke his opponent's jaw in under two minutes. Thinks he'd be good for collections." He chuckles, but my cousin isn’t wrong. Stepan has an eye for this sort of thing. It takes a special fighter to do different tasks, and collection takes a man with backbone who's not afraid to hit hard.
I flip to the next page of thorough reports, and Yegor has already marked the ones he thinks are worth my time with a red pen. He's got a good gut feeling, but I let all opinions weigh in when I'm talking about fighters. A man is only as smart as his counsel, and if I were to make my choices based only on my opinion or that of my right hand, I'd be limiting myself.
"What about Timur?"
"Timur said to take all of them. But Timur always says that," Yegor says, talking with his hands while he chews again. His fork waves around in the air with a bit of egg on it. "Timur is a tech guy, Boss. What does he know about fighters?"
I close the folder and set it aside as Sorin comes back in with a pot of coffee and fills both our mugs without saying anything. She leaves the pot on the table and goes back to the kitchen. I take a drink and look at Yegor.
"You'd be surprised what Timur knows…" I sigh and push the folder away, still troubled by everything that happened last night with Ms. Radin and her family. It's not cut and dry like I want it to be. I can't just slide her onto my roster and turn a blind eye. That girl is trouble, and I think her stepmother knows it too, which might be why she was sent to me.
Or maybe Mila is the good girl who's misunderstood and the stepmother is the one who's trouble. Either way, it seems likefor a short time, I'm going to have my hands full figuring out what's going on. It means I won’t have time to train fighters, and I’m not sure anyone else on my roster can fully handle the task without pestering me a million times. Right now just isn't a good time to take any more fighters on.
"Now's not a good time to add more fighters, unfortunately. We'll have to wait a few weeks." I dig into my eggs, and they're heavenly like always. Rebecca and Sorin really know how to treat a man. Such a shame they aren't out finding someone to settle down with like Sonya did.
