Page 46 of Kings of Cruelty

“You have to,” I say, holding tighter to his arm when he tries to pull away. “I’m not letting you get arrested because of him. He’s not worth it. Let me get my bag from the classroom, and we can call it an early day.”

“Why were you out here?” Yuri asks.

“Why weren’t you?” I retort sourly, then sigh and hold up my hand. “Sorry. I know it was like, ten minutes into class and you should’ve been fine to wander. I just… got sick.”

Yuri holds up his drink. “I was getting a coffee.” Then he seems to realize what I said. “Wait. Why were you sick? Do you need to go to a doctor?”

“No,” I say, exasperated even though it’s not Yuri’s fault. I lower my voice. “It’s morning sickness. It’s normal, apparently.” I’d been scouring the internet for the same things over and over, all the signs and symptoms and problems that can crop up, and I hate myself a little for being so smug that none of those things had affected me.

“Oh.” Yuri has the decency to look chagrined. Then he holds the coffee out to me. “Do you want a drink?”

The overwhelming smell gets to me again, and the nausea comes back in full force. I wave him off. “If you get that any closer to me, I’m going to throw up onyou,” I threaten. “Fucking hell. I’m going to end up not being able to handlecoffee. How am I going to survive this?”

He quickly pulls the coffee away. “Well, um. Nikolai said pregnant women weren’t supposed to have caffeine anyway,” Yuri says with an awkward smile. “Now you won’t be tempted?”

I glare at him. “Caffeine in moderation is fine. Everything in moderation is fine. I’m not going to start drinking or smoking, but a little bit of coffee…” I’m whining, and I know I’m whining, but my dark mood reminds me that it’s one more thing they’ve taken away from me.

“I guess we can’t go on motorcycle rides anymore either,” Yuri says, more subdued. It’s like this is the first time he’s even considered that my pregnancy might not be all fun and games.

I want to snap at him for caring about something that seems so minor, but to him, I don’t think it is. We enjoyed our motorcycle rides, and I’ll miss them too. “After the baby is born, and I’ve healed up and all,” I say. “But yeah. It’s not really safe.”

I hope they don’t decide that going anywhere and doing anything isn’t safe.

Yuri glances back toward the classroom. “Are you going back in there? Do you want to go home instead?”

“I have to get my stuff,” I say even though I really, really don’t want to face anyone in there. “Then we can go home for the day. I can’t miss class every time I’m feeling sick, but…” But James had rattled me more than I want to admit. “Am I getting fat?” I ask abruptly.

I shouldn’t care. I especially shouldn’t care about what James thinks. There’s nothing wrong with not being stick-thin, and I don’t care about beauty standards or pleasing men.

But my mother had always warned against getting fat, too.

I pause at that thought. How is my mother doing? Kyran said they’d gotten her to safety, but she doesn’t want anything to do with him, and now she doesn’t have me.

I don’t think she even knows I’m safe—or whatever version of safe this is.

My eyes tear up.

“No?” Yuri looks me over. “You’re as hot as always.”

I sniffle, nodding to him. “Okay,” I say, my voice more strained than I want to admit. “Okay,” I say again because I don’t know what else to say, but I add, “Let me get my stuff.” I turn before he can stop me, hurrying back toward the classroom. He’s right on my heels this time, though he at least pauses in the doorway while I gather my bag.

The professor gives me a strange look, but I don’t bother to give an explanation before I bail on the class.

Once the door is closed behind me, I rest my head briefly against Yuri’s shoulder. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. I need some water.”

“Okay.” Yuri wraps his arm around my shoulder. “You want to do some more Russian when we get back?‘What is this? It is an apple.’”

I crack a smile, repeating, “‘It is an apple’” in my horrible accent. “‘What is this?’” I ask, pointing to the trash can. “We got pretty well acquainted,” I try to joke.

He laughs and tells me the word for trash can, and I let him teach me all sorts of words I’ll probably forget by the time we get back.

It’s a nice distraction, at least.

THIRTEEN

Yuri

I collectall of the passports into a small bag. Four passports, four women. Two of them are crying, one looks like she wants to cry, and one of them keeps saying something in Slovak. I guess I know which of the passports is hers. Two of them are Albanian, and the last one is Belarusian.

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