Page 57 of Dark Soul

He was most certainly not ready, in the way he was wringing his hands together, his body rocking lightly from side to side.

“Hey,” she said, closing the door gently behind her.

The boy’s light gray eyes, so different from his father’s dark orbs, met hers. And his eyes were completely dry, and somehow that struck her as worse than if he’d been crying.

“Are you okay, Nikolai?”

He nodded absently, staring down at his hands. There were bruises on the pads of his fingers, from all the playing he’d been doing the last couple of days. Alexia swallowed her concern.

“You’re going to do great, Nikolai.”

The rocking had stopped, but the boy was now shaking like a leaf.

“You think so?” he asked, his voice thin and thready.

“I know so,” she said, smiling. And she wanted to tell the boy that it didn’t matter, that his father would be proud of him anyway, but of course she couldn’t say such a thing. Because she’d seen Arseny Kvyat’s expression, and was pretty sure that wasn’t the case. But there was something she could say. “Your father’s guests are all going to think you’re incredibly brave, Nikolai. You’re going to wow them, just by being you.”

The boy took one deep breath, then another.

“Okay.”

“Let’s grab the sheet music and get you downstairs, Nikolai. Your father’s waiting for you.”

“And you’ll be there with me?”

“I’ll be right beside you,” she promised, resisting the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair. “But I need to go to my room and get changed first.”

“Okay.”

19

* * *

Alexia

It took Alexia two point two seconds to realize she was completely under-dressed for the occasion.

That was the time it’d taken the first woman she’d seen to shake her head, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

The woman herself, around the same age as Alexia, if she had to guess, looked delicate and waif-like in a shimmering, silver sheath that Alexia could never have hoped to fit into.

Alexia looked down at herself. The simple black dress she was wearing was the only semi-formal dress she’d packed in her suitcase. It was the kind of dress her mother would have said could take you from the office to a funeral, by which she’d meant it could be worn anywhere.

Of course, her mother had never been invited to a Gstaad charity event.

The knee-length black dress, with its boat neckline and simple straight cut, might have been perfect for a funeral, but called attention to itself as the poor sibling in a sea of colorful, shimmering bespoke gowns.

A tall woman in a pale, asymmetrical gown with floral embellishments walked by, sparing Alexia a quick, pitying glance.

Despite herself, Alexia looked down in embarrassment. Then she forced herself to her full height. She wasn’t here for herself, and she didn’t care about any of these people.

She was here for one reason, and one reason only—to support Nikolai.

And to keep an eye on Kvyat, in case there’s anything to report.

As far as she could see, guests at the event fell cleanly into one of two types: young or rich.

That’s not fair.