Page 81 of One For my Enemy

IV. 3

(Terms and Conditions.)

“Sasha.”

She blinked, dragging her mind back to the present.

“I’m almost done,” she called through the door, staring at her reflection.

It was strange, really, how much her face no longer matched her insides. Was it really not so long ago that Lev had touched her here, and here, and here? Her eyes were glassy now, too wide. They’d seen too much. They’d seen life and death and the passage between. Her skin was pale, vaguely translucent. She reached for a bottle of Galina’s brightening serums, hoping for vanity. Hoping to fill the gaps in her heart with some useless vices; with some other less painful sins.

“Sasha.” A sigh. “Sashenka, open the door.”

Sasha paused, and then obeyed. Largely because Marya could find her way in if she wanted to.

“I’ll be ready in a minute,” Sasha said, and Marya sighed again, taking a step inside the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

“Sasha,” she said. “You won’t be going to the store today.”

“I—” Sasha looked up, blinking. “What?”

“You won’t be going to the store,” Marya repeated. She was wearing an ivory collared blouse buttoned all the way up, prim and proper as always, the grey pencil skirt delicately nipping in at her waist. “We have another job for you now, Sashenka.”

“We,” Sasha echoed, hollowly.

Masha stepped forward, drawing Sasha’s gaze up. “You think Mama betrayed you?” Marya asked quietly, scrutinizing Sasha’s impassive face. “Is that it, Sashenka?”

Sasha refused to look up. “You said there was a deal, Masha. Blood for blood.”

“Yes.” Marya’s grip tightened on her chin. “But I would never have left you for dead, Sasha.”

“But we broke our side of the deal when you brought me back,” Sasha said dully. “And Koschei didn’t.”

“Because Koschei is a monster willing to kill his own son,” Marya said, and added in warning, “Do not mistake apathy for honor.”

“But why bring me back at all?”

Sasha glanced up, meeting her sister’s dark eyes. “I understand why Mama wanted you, Masha. No one can do what you do. Nobody can be Mama’s lieutenant but you. But me, there’s no reason for me to…” She exhaled shakily. “If Lev has to remain gone, then—”

“Sashenka. Who has ever loved you more than me?” Marya cut in softly. “Name one. Name anyone.”

Sasha hesitated. “But Masha, I—”

“Forget Mama. Forget Koschei. You really thinkIwould leave you for dead?”

“Masha—”

“You’re an Antonova,” Marya reminded her. “You and I, we’re not just one of many. We are parts of an indivisible whole. If Lev and his brothers are not what we are, so be it. That’s the difference between an Antonova and a Fedorov. That’s the difference between us and everyone, and everything. We aren’t finished, Sashenka,” she said, and where she might have once softened, she stood firm, fiercely their mother’s soldier. “Look what Mama faces, Sasha. We cannot possibly be dead and done.”

“But what about—” Sasha swallowed with difficulty. “What about Stas?”

Without Lev, Sasha felt strangely empty-handed. Where she’d once held a horizon, she now saw only a receding line. She imagined her sister, in losing her husband of nearly twelve years, would have felt the same way; as if a piece of her were gone, launched impossibly far and sent blindly out to sea.

“Stas made his choice,” Marya said.

He was not an Antonova,she might have said.

“Roman killed him,” Sasha pointed. “Just as he killed you.”

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