Page 16 of A War Apart

She was awake. Thank Otets. Really, truly awake. She knew me. “I’m here, Milochka.” I blinked back tears. “Don’t move. I’ll get you a drink.”

I poured a cup of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. Propping her head up with my arm, I held the cup to her lips. She gulped it down, then let me lean her back against the pillows.

“How do you feel,dorogaya?”

“It hurts.” Her voice came out small, and a pang went through me.

I brushed a hair away from her face. “Where?”

“Everywhere.” She coughed and cried out in pain.

“You have some broken ribs.” I stroked her cheek, unable to keep from touching her. “You’ll have to stay in bed until they heal.”

She nodded. Then her hand flew to her stomach. “The baby?” she whispered, eyes wide with horror.

I couldn’t voice the words. I shook my head.

“No.” Her voice was plaintive, desperate. “No.”

There was nothing I could say to fix this. I climbed onto the bed, careful of her injuries, and wrapped my arms around her. Tears fell from my eyes as her body shook with silent sobs.

I held her until both our tears were spent.

***

Mila

I’d thought it was a nightmare. Prayed it was a nightmare. For the first few moments after I’d awoken, before I’d opened my eyes, I’d been able to imagine it was.

Then I’d woken fully, and it had all become real.

Han was the first to speak, his voice low and thick from crying. “What happened?”

I froze.

He didn’t know. Of course he didn’t know. No one had seen my attackers but me and Marya Ivanovna. With Marya Ivanovna dead, only my attackers and I knew the truth.

The nobleman had intended to use me to hurt Han. He’d succeeded—nothing I said could erase the deaths of our son and our housekeeper—but that didn’t mean Han had to bear the blame for it. He didn’t have to know who attacked me or why. They wouldn’t come looking for him again. I couldn’t protect him from the pain, but I could protect him from the guilt.

“Mila?” he prompted.

“Deserters.” It was the only thing I could think to say. “They didn’t know who they were. I don’t know why Marya Ivanovna let them into the sitting room. I was out in the garden when they started shouting. I—” I choked on my words, remembering the housekeeper’s final moments. “Marya Ivanovna was dead when I came in.”

His arms tightened around me, and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out in pain. “What did they do?” he asked.

Otets, his grip was painful. “They wanted me to keep quiet. Not tell anyone that I’d seen them. I guess they thought if they—if they hurt me, I wouldn’t talk.”

“Did they…”

I knew what he wanted to ask. He wanted to know if they’d done more than beat me. He wanted to know why I’d been naked on the floor when they’d found me. If they’d raped me.

“No,” I lied. He didn’t need to know the truth, the details. What he’d seen was enough. Too much, even.

“When are the funerals?” I asked. Marya Ivanovna and the baby would both need to be buried. Marya Ivanovna’s sister would plan hers, but who would plan the baby’s?

Han tensed. “We didn’t know…” He stopped. “Anna saw him buried this morning. I didn’t want to leave you.”

I’d never even gotten to see him. My son, he was my son, and I didn’t even know what he looked like. Tears choked me, grief threatening to drown me, but I swallowed hard and spoke again. “How long has it been? Since—” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.

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