Page 137 of Emerald Malice

Andrey nods, his eyes flashing with some unknown emotion. “He can stay.”

And finally, I let myself breathe. I let myself be comforted.

Because I believe Andrey.

More importantly, I realize… I trust him.

48

ANDREY

For the first time since he was captured by my men, I seek out the boy.

Misha is reading in his room. It’s just a book, but the way he jumps and tries to hide it when he sees me standing in the doorway makes it seem like illegal contraband.

“What have you got there?”

“Nothing,” he answers a little too quickly.

I hold out a hand, waiting. His face sours, but he retrieves the book from under the pillow where he stashed it. He doesn’t meet my eyes as he forks it over.

I’m expecting a dirty magazine or a mass murderer’s manifesto, but it’s just a flimsy paper copy of The Ugly Duckling. I flip through the pages, looking for something stashed between them, but there’s nothing.

The words are in large, bolded text. It’s the kind of easy reader book you’d give a child just learning to read. Nothing more, nothing less.

I look from the cover to Misha’s face. “We have a library if you want something else.” I don’t immediately understand the flush that rises to his cheeks. And then it hits me: “You can’t read.”

“I can read,” he snaps. He sucks in his cheeks, chewing on the insides. “I’m just… not very good.” His voice wobbles, but it doesn’t break.

Not for the first time, I understand what Natalia sees in him. He’s made of tougher stuff than most.

Throwing the book onto his bed, I gesture for him to follow me. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

He doesn’t move. “Where?”

“Just around the property.”

“With Natalia and Remi?” He looks past me into the hallway, the hope in his eyes dimming when he sees it’s empty.

“Just me today, Misha.”

Judging from the look on his face, he’s not reassured in the least, but he does follow me out of his room.

The silence continues until we’re outside. I don’t have to worry about being interrupted; Natalia and Remi are at work for the day. Then again, maybe it might have been better to include Natalia in this conversation. Misha likes her. He trusts her.

I suppose I’ll have to rely on my own instincts to guide me through this one.

We walk for several more minutes before I finally break the silence. “Misha, do you know why you were sent to spy on me?”

The boy’s head rises and his chin juts out stubbornly. “I wasn’t sent to spy; I was bait.” He spits the word like it’s beneath him. Given what I’ve seen of him the last few weeks, I tend to agree. Nikolai severely underestimated the asset he had on his hands.

“I don’t have any more information to give you,” Misha adds brusquely. “I’ve already told Shura everything I know.”

“I know that.” I step closer and clap a hand on his shoulder. “I know Nikolai Rostov, Misha. He would never have considered you important enough to share information with. You were only a pawn to sacrifice. So that, if you were caught, it wouldn’t matter, because you’d have nothing worthwhile to divulge.”

He works his jaw back and forth until I’m sure his teeth are dust. His hands start to tremble with a rage I know all too well.

With a sigh, I lead him over to the old stone bench. He perches on the far corner of it, his hands tucked beneath his thighs so I can’t see them tremble.

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