Page 386 of Eight of Swords, Part One

‘You don’t need to know who you are at seventeen.’

‘You did. You knew.’

‘Yeah, but it came at a cost I’d never want you to pay.’

‘Who am I going to be in this life? I am not like my brother.’

Lachlan touches the tail of the pyjama top Vasily is wearing, knows whose they are. Who left them here. ‘You don’t need to be like Roman.’

Vasily’s gaze drops to Lachlan’s wrist. The carved R. ‘You loved him.’

‘He loved you, Silly. Mimi loves you. Jules loves you.’ Lachlan rolls his eyes, gives a tiny wry smile. ‘I love you.’ Vasily’s tiny flicker of an answering smile gives Lachlan hope. ‘And despite everything, Mikhail loved you very much.’ Lachlan moves up the bed, sits with his back against the pillows beside Vasily. ‘You’re very loved, Silly.’

‘What if…?’

‘Go on, it’s OK.’

‘What if I never figure out who I am?’

‘The fact that you’re questioning it at all is a good sign.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. I think maybe you actually get to choose some stuff now and that must feel pretty overwhelming. I remember when I left the military, I had to buy my own food, and it was just baffling. I didn’t know what to buy.’

Vasily sits back. ‘What did you buy?’

‘I bought…’ Lachlan grins, staring ahead. ‘Cookies.’

Vasily tuts. ‘You did not.’

‘I did.’

‘Liar.’

‘Nope, honest to God.’

‘You don’t believe in God.’

‘I believe in you, OK? And you can do whatever the fuck you want, but you do have to want it, so my advice? Pick a good feeling and follow it. You’re always gonna have money, and that’s a privilege you can’t waste on being miserable forever. That’s how rich people become the fucking monsters that they are,’ he says, voice lowered. ‘They get bored. They lose touch with humanity.’

‘A good feeling,’ Vasily echoes thoughtfully.

‘Yeah. And maybe we could get you some new clothes, huh?’ Lachlan suggests casually. ‘These aren’t really your style.’

‘What is my style?’

‘Whatever makes you feel good.’

‘Hmm. Maybe.’

Lachlan will take it.

‘Come on, let’s go raid the kitchen.’

Vasily smiles properly, his first one of the night. ‘Really?’

‘Absolutely. I’m starved.’