Page 120 of Ivory Oath

“Except I’m the picture in the center of several dartboards right now. The closer Dante is to me, the more likely he gets hit.” My stomach churns. I’ve been nauseous for days, but this is a new kind of sickness. “I’m his mother, Mikhail. He’s supposed to be safe with me.”

“Maybe it’s time we consider…” Mikhail pauses, considers his words carefully. I know whatever he’s about to say, I’m not going to like. “The mansion might not be the safest place for Dante right now.”

I sit bolt upright. “No.”

I knew the boarding school conversation would come back around sooner or later, but I’m not ready for it now. I thought we’d circle back when Dante was seventeen… and a half.

Maybe in his last semester of senior year he could transfer to a boarding school in the city.

And visit me every weekend.

“You said it yourself: the closer he is to you, the less safe he is.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to send him away!” I fire back.

Mikhail sits up and drags a hand over his face and I can see the exhaustion etched into every line of his face.

“We should go to sleep,” I announce. “I haven’t had enough sleep—ever—to have this conversation. Let’s sleep on it and talk about it later when we’re more rested.”

Considering we’re in the middle of a war and I’m pregnant, I don’t think sleep is in the cards for us for the next eight years. At least.

“We aren’t sending him away forever, Viviana.”

“He won’t be here with us.”

“He’ll be close by. The boarding school I found is close by. It’s in the city.”

I shake my head. “You told me it was in Moscow. You wanted to send him to Russia.”

“I’m trying this new thing. It’s called compromise.” He nudges my arm with his shoulder. “You ever heard of it?”

He’s trying to be cute, but I’m not in the mood. He’s my husband, but he’s also the man who wants to send my baby boy away. “I’m familiar, but I didn’t think you were.”

“That’s why I said it was new.” He sighs. “I don’t want this, either, Viviana… if that makes you feel any better. But that doesn’t mean it’s not the best choice for Dante.”

He’s right. I know he’s right, but I can’t bring myself to say it. I can’t bring myself to say anything. If I open my mouth, I’ll fall apart.

Mikhail must be able to sense my resignation because he grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “He’ll be safer there, Viv. I wouldn’t send him if I didn’t believe that.”

“But Mrs. Steinman is my school!” Dante looks at me with wide, blue eyes. “I already have a teacher.”

“Mrs. Steinman is a tutor. She isn’t the same as school,” Mikhail explains. “You’re going to go to a place with more teachers and other students. It’s a big building with lots of classrooms.”

It looks like a prison.

Mikhail showed me pictures online this morning and told me to “keep an open mind.” Well, my mind was wide open and now, it’s stuffed full with pictures of that brick building outfitted with quadruple-layered glass that could probably withstand everything up to and including a nuclear bomb.

According to the website, there are metal detectors, a three-point sign-in system, and fencing and guards around the perimeter of the school.

He’ll be safe there, I tell myself for the umpteenth time this morning. I keep repeating it, but the words don’t seem to stick.

So what if it’s safe? Dante is a kid. He needs fresh air and sunlight and his mother.

“Is there recess?” Dante asks.

“You’ll get breaks,” Mikhail tells him. “It won’t be school all the time. Sometimes, you’ll get to hang out with your friends and spend time in your room. There’s a gym and a movie theater. There’s a restaurant in the lobby and you can?—”

“We’re moving there?” Dante turns his Bambi eyes on me, waiting for an answer.

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