“You will,” I said.
Lev looked at me. “Mikhail Sorin has arrived.”
I kept my face still. “Is the doctor with him?”
“In the building, not in the room. Galina Sorin came as well.”
Of course she had.
Nadia’s eyes moved to mine. “Your mother is here?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know about me?”
“She knows enough to come.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“My mother wasn’t designed for comfort.”
A woman’s voice carried from the top of the stairs. “I heard that, Vadim.”
Nadia’s fingers dug into mine.
Galina Sorin stood on the landing in a dark green dress and a black wool coat pinned at the throat with a gold brooch. Her dark hair, threaded with silver, was arranged at the nape of her neck. She looked down at me first, then at Nadia, and her expression gave away nothing she hadn’t chosen to spend.
“Mother,” I said.
“Son.”
I led Nadia up the stairs, stopping one step below Galina so Nadia wasn’t forced to look up from the floor.
Galina’s gaze moved over Nadia’s face, her coat, the steady way she held my hand. “Nadia Yelchin.”
Nadia swallowed. “Mrs. Sorin.”
“My son has made half the city nervous before dinner. That usually means someone underestimated him or someone touched what he considers his.”
Nadia’s grip loosened as surprise crossed her face.
Galina looked at me. “In this case, I assume both.”
“Yes.”
A faint line appeared between my mother’s brows. “Your father is tired. Don’t make him repeat himself.”
“He insisted on coming.”
“He is still Mikhail Sorin. He insists on many foolish things.”
“That sounds familiar.”
Galina ignored that. Her attention returned to Nadia. “Are you here because my son ordered it?”
Nadia’s spine straightened. “No. I’m here because Gennady keeps using my name and my brother’s life to speak for me. I’m done letting him.”
Galina watched her for one long breath.
