Page 100 of Crowned

One day I’m so hot and cranky that I lose my temper with Konstantin. “I know you’re up to something. What are you planning?”

He kisses my forehead. “Malyshka, we are always planning something.”

I push him away and pick up a newspaper to fan myself with. “But why do I feel that this has got something to do with me? You’re being so fucking furtive.”

A smile spreads over his face as he gazes at me. “Ah, gentle motherhood.”

I swat his arm with the paper and go back to fanning myself. “What’s wrong with this country? Why isn’t there any air conditioning here?”

“I’ll buy you air conditioning.”

“Stop changing the subject!”

Konstantin regards me seriously. “What are you really worried about?”

I shoot him a look. “The future. I’m always worried about the future. I don’t think we’ve earned our happy ending.”

“Look around. It’s here. It’s happening.”

“But do wedeserveit? I shouldn’t be falling in love with my captors. We shouldn’t all be loving this baby.”

“Says who?”

The nameless pit of dread in my belly, that’s who. I keep fanning myself with the paper. “All my life, men have only wanted me for what I can do for them. They see opportunity, money, holes to fuck. Now it’s a baby.”

“When we stood on that cliff and I held out my hand to you, I wasn’t thinking about money or advantage. I wasn’t craving your body or a baby. I was hungering for your soul.”

I think about that night so often, replaying the moment I jumped from the cliff into the darkness. A leap of faith that I don’t regret, even though I’ve ended up back here with the men I was running from.

“We don’t want anything from you but who you are. Don’t you understand, Lilia? Answer me, Lilia.”

The sensation in my belly suddenly tightens until I’m being squeezed by an invisible hand. I bow my head and clench my fists. “I can’t.”

“Why, Lilia?”

I reach out and fumble for the edge of the desk, holding on for dear life, gasping, “Because I think the baby’s coming.”

16

Lilia

Despite all the drama of its conception, the baby arrives without fuss.

I spend hours of my labor walking up and down, breathing through the contractions. They seem to be building up to something dramatic, bloody, violent. Elyah walks with me, his arm around my waist.

Kirill watches us from the side of the room, his face in shadows and sweat on his upper lip. Konstantin stands to one side with his arms folded, firing questions at me until Elyah tells him to shut up. The midwife is the only one who’s smiling, so I take my cue from her. If she’s relaxed and happy, then everything must be fine.

I thought childbirth was supposed to be wall-to-wall drama and pain, but the baby is born with surprising ease. I’ve barely had time to swear once before the midwife is placing my daughter’s seconds-old body on my chest.

As soon as I lay eyes on her, I’m so shocked that I burst into tears.

All my men have crowded around me. I’m aware of their bodies and hands, but I can’t see anything but the tiny, helpless thing laying on my chest.

“Solnyshko, what is wrong?”

“I wasn’t ready,” I sob, tears pouring down my cheeks. I don’t think I would have ever been ready, but she’s here anyway, insisting through her loud cries that we meet her, see her, love her.

The midwife cleans her up, swaddles her, and places her into my arms.

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