Page 25 of King’s Promise

“Your fiancé is a looker, good for you.” She nudges me, and I smile.

He is a looker, and his aloof nature is driving me crazy. I can’t stop thinking about him and his cold, translucent eyes remind me of frozen lakes in the Russian countryside.

The line moves, we show our IDs and pay to enter the newest club. The music is loud, making talking impossible.

Darci motions towards the bar. I follow right behind her as she cuts a path through the crowd of young people. New clubs are always packed, and tonight is no exception. The circular bar has neon blue lighting under it. There’s an upper level with a railing for guests to lean on and a good place if one wants to check out the hotties below.

“Two martinis,” she yells to the handsome bartender.

A minute later she turns and hands me a drink. I take a sip.

“Blimey, this is strong!”

“It’s supposed to be. At fifteen pounds a drink, it better be strong.”

It sounds like highway robbery, but I’m buzzed after a few sips. We circulate around the dance floor and watch the crowd jump around to the beat of techno music.

Darci finds classmates and we join them in a less noisy corner of the room where we catch up. I don’t know them well. I suck at group social skills, preferring one on one conversations with meaning, so I listen. I thought this would be fun, even exhilarating, but find myself missing the comforts of home, knowing Nikolay is just down the hall, and I wonder when he’ll make the move we’ve been dancing around all week.

I look over my shoulder to make sure we’re not being followed and put my empty glass on a table. As a group, we decide to hit the dance floor. I allow myself to get caught up in the music and the room begins to spin, but I tell myself it will wear off. it’s not like I haven’t been drunk before but hell, that drink had a kick to it.

I’m wondering how Darci knew it was me in the paper. Sure, there was a picture with a telephoto lens, I doubt it would be clear enough for her to piece it together. Who would even be thinking a school chum would be someone in the news and with a different name? It’s a lot to piece together. I’ve never shared much about my life, my sister and mum, sure, but nothing would give away my real name. Papa insisted I use a different name in school for safety. She knows my secret, yet she hasn’t questioned me on the reason behind it and at this point in time, the room blurs and I know I’m in trouble.

I stumble away from the group and clutch a tabletop. The patrons give me a ‘fuck off’ look. I think I’m going to be sick.

Just as I’m about to pass out, strong hands grab me.

9

Nikolay

I’m sipping cognac when Mother calls.

“Mama, how are you?”

“I try to move forward. The good days mix with moments in which I’m out of tears. It comes in waves. I miss your father. How is it going there? I haven’t heard from you. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I hate sending you there to clean up this mess. I’m happy you’re getting married. It’s time you took a wife. We need new blood in the family, kids bring energy into the house.”

This must be the next phase after the grieving, she’s looking forward to activities to motivate her to get out of bed every day. It’s been under two weeks since she lost her husband, so I’d say she’s doing well. After thirty-five years of marriage, she deserves as much time as she needs. His death left a gaping hole in her heart and everyday life. Grandchildren will fill her life, but I foresee our life rotating in and out of Russia. Eventually I’ll have a brother take over Russia; it makes sense to conquer and divide. If I can’t trust my brothers, I’m really fucked.

“I’ll do my best, Mama. Anya loves London.” I lean back in my chair and her comforting voice soothes me. She is a good mother, my instincts tell me Anya will be too, especially after I hear snippets of her father, who was a piece of work.

“Don’t get carried away. Anya and I are still strangers, we were kids when we last met. I’ll give you grandkids, just not now. I have a job to do.” All the while I really have no idea what Anya thinks. I’ve never discussed it with her because it’s a foregone conclusion.

“Don’t forsake the good things in life. You can be too serious at times. I think Anya will be good for you. You need to be married before you become too set in your ways. It’s harder to change and compromise the older you get. I’m pissed at Igor, he was never good with the politics of our world, or elected officials. Your father warned him to stay away from oil companies, but somehow, he landed out of favor in the end.” She sighs. “He wasn’t fastidious with details like you. I wonder what Dmitry will find. We may never know why either of them were killed. How is Anya? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

“She’s well. However, she hasn’t mentioned us. I don’t think she remembers our time in Russia. She was young,” I add. I’m shocked because she never mentioned her over the years. Maybe she thought it was only a crush between us. Maybe she didn’t know of our attraction. We fit together so well even then.

“Sure, I was friends with her mother, and we did things together. Then we moved to the city, and they went to London. It was part of the plan to divide and conquer.” She lets out a longer sigh as if she’s exhausted and reminiscing of the past.

“I remember Anya, but I didn’t think you would. She was a cute kid.” I reflect on memories I buried years ago and yet they return to me like it was yesterday.

“Yes, she was. But you loved to tease her. You would pull her pigtails and give her flowers you picked from the vacant fields; they smelled of mint and sage.”

I sink back into the sofa taking a large sip of my liquor. I think back and day dream about the small town where we were born, the flowers going by the dirt roads we walked. Anya always had her nose in a book. The kids made fun of her because she’d rather read than play ball in the school yard. She lovedLittle Women. I assume it’s because it was her alternate reality. Nothing exciting every happened in our small town. Most dads spent their weekly paycheck being vodka in the local bars and fought with their wives when they made it home.

Sure, I teased her, kids do tease each other, it means nothing. I remember leaving a note inside her book asking her to meet me on the playground to walk her home and she’d tell me about the novels she was reading, some were not legal, likeLittle Women;she loved it. I now recall how she clutched it to her chest in my office with the library. She made me promise to keep it a secret as kids. My little Anya is all grown up. A grin forms on my tired face. This would explain the chemistry between us, I’m sure of it. We gravitated towards each other as children, and as adults, it turned into a burning flame. She’s never far from my thoughts. I pushed her to the back of my mind over the years, thinking it was fate telling me we were not to be when they suddenly moved away. I was sure our parents were conspiring against me, and us.

“I doubt she remembers any of it, she was so young at the time,” Mama adds wistfully. “How are the wedding plans coming along?”

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