Page 145 of One For my Enemy

“You should treat your creatures better, Koschei,” Marya advised, the shadows flickering on the walls behind her. They coiled around her chair to crowd it like a throne, and he turned, stomach lurching, to his son.

“I watch all of you,” Koschei told Roman carefully. “Of course. Of course I watch over you.”

“No, actually,” Marya said, rising to her feet. “He doesn’t watch Dimitri. He didn’t watch Lev. He only watched you. And do you know why, Roma?”

Confusion flitted over Roman’s brow.

“Because you’re the weak one,” Marya said, lips curling up in a smile.

Roman’s eyes darted accusingly to his father.

“Don’t listen to her,” Koschei sighed. “Romik, please. What have I always told you about the Antonova witches?”

“Oh, are you against them now?” Roman asked blankly. “Because when I tried to do something about it—”

“You made a mess of it,” Koschei said. “We wouldn’t be here now if not for you, and now, if there’s nothing left to say, we’re leaving. We’re done here,” he said, turning to Marya. “Whatever you hoped to accomplish by this, Marya, you will not gain from me or my sons.”

“Oh, won’t I?” she asked doubtfully. “As of a few hours ago, Dimitri turned over your paperwork to the Boroughs. All of your receipts,” she clarified, as Koschei felt his face drain of color. “Your creatures. Your illegal rents. Every favor you have ever owed or fulfilled, Dimitri has record of it, and the Boroughs have it now.”

“You’re lying,” Koschei said instantly.

She smiled. “Dead girls don’t lie, Koschei.” Her attention slipped back to Roman. “Do they, Roma?”

Whatever Koschei had expected to see from his son, fear had not been it.

“Pity you fight so hard to protect your father, Roma,” Marya was murmuring to him. “Haven’t you realized by now which son he will always choose?”

Koschei grimaced. Forget what kind of witch Marya Antonova was; she was, and would always be, a dastardly clever woman, dragging her claws through the entrails of all their insecurities and flaws. “Romik, listen to me—”

“You chose Dima.” He could see his middle son piecing together the little doubts he had always clung to, the toxicity of them festering once again. “Papa, once again, you choose Dima over me, even while he betrays you!”

“Dima would never betray me,” Koschei said firmly. “She’s lying, Romik, and look, it’s working—”

“No. She isn’t.” Roman’s voice was hard and brittle, like rubble from his lips. “Dima hasn’t been loyal to you for months now. He left your side the moment you abandoned Lev. My god,” Roman spat, his hand tightening around the spatha in his hand. “I can’t believe it. I cannot believe it. All this time, Papa, I was fighting for a cause that didn’t even exist—”

“You’re being dramatic, Roma, and irrational. I love all my sons.”

“No,” Roman said, shaking his head. “No, you don’t. You threw Lev away. Even Dima, who you claim to love most of all—”

“Do not question that.”

“—you caused him the worst pain of his life!”

“Roma, you forget yourself—”

“I thought it was the Antonovas who would destroy us. I thoughttheywere the dangerous ones, the vipers—I thoughtshe,” Roman hissed, aiming the tip of the spatha at the scar on Marya’s chest, “would be the one to tear us apart. But it isn’t, is it? It’s you,” he spat at Koschei. “You’rethe poison in this family.”

Koschei’s mouth tightened. “Roma, please.”

“What if you had let Dima have his life with her, hm?” Roman demanded. “All those years ago, if you had just let them be, she’d be nothing. The Antonovas would be nothing. YoucreatedBaba Yaga,” he shouted at his father, “and if you hadn’t done such a thoughtless, selfish thing, all three of your sons would still be at your side!”

“Roma, listen to me—”

“But you had to have your heir, didn’t you?” Roman continued, gravelly with rage. “If I am the weaker son, Papa, then it’s because of you. Because we are not equal in your eyes. Because you were so afraid Dima might love something else more than he loved you. That’s the worst thing you can imagine, isn’t it? Having me, your least worthy son, inherit your precious kingdom in Dima’s place!”

Roman’s chest rose and fell with anguish, the sword in his hand still aimed at an impassive Marya. “Dima would have chosen Masha,” he said bitterly. “He would have always chosen Masha—and was it really so bleak a prophecy you preferred to destroy all your sons just to keep one at your side?”

The words left Koschei’s mouth without permission. “You are selfish,” he said to Roman. “You are like me, Roma. You’re too desperate, too starved. You will never be enough. Just like me,” he said, swallowing hard, “Just like me, Romik, my son—you are not enough.”

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