Page 89 of Little Blue

Luka stares at the entrance for a long moment, something dark pinching his expression. Then he turns to me. “Progress with what?”

Men can be daft sometimes. My heart feels heavy. “Boris.”

“What?”

“I don’t think he likes me.”

Luka nods slowly. Then he says, “Boris is a tough one. Don’t take it personally.”

Oh, but I am taking it personally. “What do you mean, tough one?”

“He’s—what do you call—he spends time with himself.”

“Introverted?”

“That’s it.” Luka toys with a die, flipping it with a single fingertip. “He’s always alone, but he’s watchful and good at his job.”

I sit in somber silence for a long moment. I’ve been here nearly two months. It’s December twenty-fourth, Christmas Eve in America. I’m feeling extra lonely and out of place, here in this place where, I’ve learned, they don’t celebrate Christmas until January seventh. It has something to do with the new and old calendar. Still, I’m really feeling the absence of the holiday, even though at home, I wouldn’t have done more than decorate my tiny tree with dollar store bulbs and a strand of, again, dollar store lights. Still, I would have splurged on a ham that Lucy and I would have shared.

I swallow my sigh as I force a smile, standing. “I’m going to go see the girls.” Luka stands with me, but I lift a hand. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I do, Irelynn.”

“There are men all over the property, Luka. And I’ll have the girls with me. What could possibly happen to me here that I would need a guard?”

Luka simply stares at me for a long moment. Polina heaves a sigh and understanding dawns.

Oh, they think I might try to run.

It’s alarming that the thought hasn’t even registered these last weeks. Mostly, I’ve been content with my place here.

I’ve been falling for the monster who captured me heart and soul.

“Right.” I cast my gaze to the window. Then, saying nothing at all, I head for the entrance.

I feel heavy and sad. I need fresh air, and I need to talk to someone.

The girls always listen.

Thirty-Seven

Ilya

I follow the scent of baking into the kitchen. Since Irelynn’s arrival, Polina has been baking more. Apparently, my Little Blue has a sweet tooth, and Polina likes to sate it. It’s the grandmother in her who tried, but never could have children of her own. She’s taken Irelynn under her wing, teaching her how to cook and bake. Spending time with her, watching over her, and even going so far as to warn me to treat her well.

I appreciate that she cares for her as she does.

I last left Irelynn here to play a round or two of games as I took a call from my brother, who was none too happy about the destruction one tiny woman did to a very large, very luxuriously decorated room.

My suggestion had been to put her in the dungeon.

The fact Kirill had paused as though to consider it told me everything about how his life had been since I’d delivered Ruby to him. My brother may not have been born with a stomach for torture, but I knew well enough that he’d do whatever it took to keep his family safe. And right now, keeping the little demon (his words) from her father was the best way to do so.

He'd interrogated her about Ivan, just as Misha had before he’d dropped her on Kirill’s doorstep, kicking and screaming and, much to Kirill’s ire, sobbing.

Nothing got to him quite like the tears of a woman.

I’m confident he’s cursed my name more than once over the last week.

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