“It isn’t.”
“Then why go?”
“Because everyone who matters will be there.”
There it is. The real reason.
My hand tightens against my arm. “Our first public appearance.”
“Yes.”
The words settle between us.
The city will see me again. Not as Dmitri’s runaway bride. As Yaromir’s wife.
A strange pressure builds in my chest. I should be afraid. I am afraid. But beneath it, something stirs, something that remembers the wedding dress, the hallway, Dmitri’s voice saying I would be fine.
Yaromir watches my face. “You understand what that means?”
“I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“No. You just keep speaking like I’m a child.”
His jaw tightens slightly. “Tonight will not be easy.”
The nervousness in my stomach deepens. “Why?”
Again, the pause. Small, but there.
He looks away toward Buran, and I know immediately he’s hiding something.
“No,” I say.
His eyes return to mine.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Answer half the question and expect me to be grateful. What aren’t you saying?”
He studies me for a moment. In the stall, Buran lowers his head and exhales heavily, as if bored by both of us.
Yaromir’s voice changes when he finally answers. It becomes more careful.
“My father will probably attend.”
My fingers go cold. “And Dmitri?” I ask.
Silence. That’s answer enough.
I laugh, but it comes out thin. “Of course.”
“Anya.”
“No, it makes sense.” I look down at my ring, his ring, glittering on my finger. “Why waste a perfectly good marriage if we can’t parade it in front of the man I ran from?”
