ELLIE
I tell myself, every morning, that I’m going to ask him.
The plan is clear: when I see him next, I’m going to say, casually, as if it doesn’t matter,Why do you leave without waking me?
Simple question. Reasonable thing to want to know. I’ve been sleeping in his room for two weeks because he asked me to, and every morning I wake to an empty bed and the shape of him still on the pillow.
The thing is, I’ve always been a light sleeper. The fact that I’m sleeping through Rolan Belov leaving a bed is either evidence that he moves outside the normal rules of physics or that I’m sleeping more deeply than I have in years.
We’ve developed almost a routine in the past weeks. I wake upaloneand go to the sunroom. Anya and I spend mornings doing lessons. She’s accelerating through the new math materials at a rate that is making me reconsider my entire understanding of what someone her age can do. Afternoons are spent doing whatever the day calls for. Art. Reading. The occasional foray into the garden.
When evening comes, Rolan comes with it, and the rest ofthe night is spent exploring each other’s bodies before falling asleep.
Tuesday afternoon, Anya and I have finished her lesson for the day. She sits at her desk with her sketchbook, and I’m near the door, talking to her about tomorrow’s schedule, when the entire house rattles.
No…moves.
A deep concussive thud comes up through the floor and the walls simultaneously, a heavy vibration. An event that your body understands before your brain has caught up.
Anya is across the room, and her arms are around my legs before I’ve finished registering what happened.
“Ellie,” she whispers.
“Hey.” I put my hands on her shoulders. My heart is thundering against my ribs, but I keep my face carefully blank. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”
“What was that?”
“I don’t know yet, but we’re going to go sit down and wait for someone to come tell us. Okay?”
She nods, still holding my legs.
I move us to the corner of the room, away from the window and door. I keep my arm around her and count in my head to keep calm despite the panic spreading through my veins.
I get to two hundred and eighty-seven before a knock comes.
Mikhail. His eyes sweep the room, find us both, and some of the tension adjusts.
“Are you girls alright?”
“We’re fine.” I stand. “What’s happening?”
He hesitates. “The estate is under attack. We need to move you to the safe room.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain later. Right now, we need to go.” He looks at Anya and softens fractionally. “Can you be brave for me,mala?”
Her eyes shift between us. “Yes.”
Mikhail moves us through corridors I’ve never taken and stairways I didn’t know existed. A door behind another door.
Down. And then further down.
The room at the bottom is nothing like what the wordsafe roomsuggested. I look at it. Then at Mikhail.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” I tell Anya. “I’ll be right there.”
She looks at me once more, then goes down, and I turn to Mikhail.
