Page 57 of The Silent Princess

“Yeah.”

“I’ll stay prepared just in case.”

“Okay.” I smirk, shaking my head. “Then I suppose I will add it to the list of things to keep away from you.”

“Such as?”

“Bad guys.” I shrug. “Bad guys and tsunamis.” Something fragile returns to her face then, as if the laughter has opened a door only grief was waiting behind.

“Anyway,” she signs, looking away, back to her memories. “When she died, it was like…a part of me died with her. I miss her. I miss her so much.” She confesses it as a tear forms and rolls, thick, down her cheek. I shift from kneeling to sitting beside her, gently circling her waist with my arm and pulling her onto my lap as her head naturally finds the crook of my neck. Ella cries there, against my chest, in a place I hope she knows is now her home, her sanctuary to let go and be exactly who she is.

The wind is still crashing against the window, the street silent, and the TV downstairs seems to have stopped. I hum in her ear, a made-up lullaby, the only one I remember from my childhood. My palm runs circles over her back, and despite trying my best to be gentle, I cannot help but hold her tight, real tight against me, shielding her from the world, protecting the woman I am falling for. The rain is crashing against the windows. I’ll be drenched before finding my bike again. Doesn’t matter. Ella is here. My Ella, in my arms, exactly where she should be.

Ella

He is holding me like no one ever has, like no one ever will, at least not in this protective, possessive yet gentle way, telling me with his body that he is my shelter now. I have allowed myself to cry in front of him, something I have not been able to do in front of anyone in years. I couldn’t show weakness in front of my stepsisters and Mara, and never in front of Dad, never. In the eye of the storm, I have kept my tears to myself, hidden in this room, like all my aspirations.

Tristan whispers in my ear, “Sign to me. Tell me what to do to fix everything.”

Our faces are so close I could just, just dip in and sink my lips against his.

“You already are,” I sign between our chests.

He gives me a sad smile and sighs. “Ella, there is something I need to tell you, something you might not like at all.” I frown, waiting.

“I found proof of your stepmother’s involvement with…let’s say, shady people, dangerous ones. She seems to be highly in debt, and I wonder if she might be trying to get rid of you and your father to get the inheritance all to herself and repay the family she borrowed from,” he signs, his face changing into an unreadable business wall.

“You don’t seem surprised.” Taking in his information, I shake my head. So I was right, then. Mara never wanted to befriend me in the first place. It was all a show, a game to her. Could Tristan be right? Even after more than a decade under her roof, would she remain insensitive to me? And what about her love for Dad? Could it all be a game of pretend?

“I don’t know anything anymore,” I sign. “I have been suspecting money issues since two men came into the house and she got really stressed about it.”

“Two men?”

“In black suits, with tattoos on their hands.”

“Ella,” Tristan runs a hand over his face, as if he has not slept for weeks, his other hand gripping possessively at my waist, “they’re called the Vodianovs. It’s a Russian family, mafia, extremely dangerous, a family that my family has been enemies with for generations.”

“I don’t understand. Why them? Why not get money from the bank or…wherever people get it from?” His gaze softens, as if he wishes, for a moment, that I could truly be sheltered from this dark world.

“She must have needed it fast, and banks would require proof and follow-through she could not provide. I think she’s desperate to save her company and herself.”

“But what does it have to do with me if she manages to pay them back?”

“I am not worried about her paying them back, Ella. I am much more concerned about what happens if she doesn’t. Surely, she will not be able to repay and will have to borrow again from other people. It is an endless cycle.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I don’t think you’re safe in this house anymore. If Mara finds out about us, she could use you as payment for her debt.”

“Why? What would they want with me?”

“Because when you really want to hurt someone, you aim at their heart. Cole Vodianov, the heir, has been looking for years for a way to wound me enough that I could never strike back. You would be… You would be the perfect…” He stops, eyes widening, a flash of terror cutting through them.

“Tristan, I’m okay. Everything is okay. I’m safe. Look at me.” I rest a palm on his chest, wanting to take away his worries, his fears for me.

“If…I could put you and your dad in an apartment or a house in the city. It would be safer. You…” I stop him with my hands.

“Tristan, no. I would never ask that of you. All our assumptions are based on what-ifs. Dad would never understand why he could not be in his home, Mara would hang me for it, and maybe I am wrong and seeing evil everywhere…”