Page 55 of One For my Enemy

Not a stranger, she amended, stepping closer.

“Ivan,” she realized softly, reaching a hand out, and he jumped, looking as if he’d drifted off while staring blankly out her window.

“Sasha,” he said, and cleared his throat. They’d never spoken privately before and it was a bit strange to hear his voice, she thought. She’d imagined it gruff and full of sharpness, a weapon as threatening as his fists, but it was deeper, more soothing. Syrupy in a way, and it poured out like honey. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

She paused, hesitating. “Does my mother know I was—”

“No, no,” Ivan assured her, glancing down. “Though I don’t recommend you being alone. Particularly not now.”

Sasha nodded, turning to take a seat beside him on her bed.

“Do you know what happened?” she asked gently, and Ivan shook his head. Clearly it pained him, and she resolved not to press for any further details. “I just keep asking myself what she’d want me to do,” Sasha admitted, drawing her legs up to rest her chin on her knees. “I don’t think I’ve ever woken up to a morning without the answer.”

Ivan shifted, uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after a moment.

“It’s not your fault,” Sasha exhaled, sparing him a glance that was at once admonishing and, she hoped, comforting. “Nobody on earth could have stopped my sister from doing anything she wanted to, I just don’t understand—”

She trailed off, grimacing.

“I don’t understand what happened,” she confessed. “Mama hasn’t given us much information. Is it—” She glanced at Ivan, taking a breath. “Was Masha really killed in Koschei’s warehouse?”

Ivan either couldn’t look at her or wouldn’t.

“Yes,” he said.

“What was she doing there?”

She waited, but no answer. She hadn’t really expected him to know.

“Do you think it was Koschei himself,” she pressed quietly, “or—”

“I don’t know,” Ivan said, shaking his head, and then dropped his chin. “Though I blame him all the same. And myself.” He swallowed hard. “I blame everyone, but I blame the Fedorov sons most of all.”

“You do?” Sasha asked, and though Ivan didn’t spare her an answer, she abruptly recalled what she had heard Lev’s brother say that morning:The game is changing.

She heard herself, too, and an echo of her thoughts:Not Lev, never Lev, but possibly, maybe, could it be?

If it hadn’t been him, then he had nothing to worry about. If he had never intended to harm her or her family before, then he certainly wouldn’t now.

If ithadbeen him, then…

Sasha stiffened, shoving her feelings aside.

“What if we could find out who was really behind this,” she posed carefully, running her fingers thoughtfully over her lip. “Is there someone who would know what the Fedorovs were up to?”

She glanced again at Ivan, who said nothing.

“Just tell me one thing,” Sasha urged him, and he bristled slightly, proving something just shy of hesitant; apprehensive, she guessed. “How did my sister know the Fedorov brothers had crossed her?”

Ivan paused, weighing the value of the information, and sighed, relenting.

“Marya had an informant,” he admitted. “A man. Fae.”

“We should find him, then,” she said, rising to her feet. “Talk to him. See what he knows.”

At once, Ivan’s reaction was lightning-quick, gripping her arm and pulling her back. “No, Sasha,” he said flatly, not releasing her until she’d consented to pause. “I won’t take you to him. He’s dangerous,” he clarified in a low voice, “and your sister would never allow it. She’d never forgive me.”

---