Page 95 of One For my Enemy

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “You know, if you were even marginally less apathetic, I might be inclined to help you.”

“And if I thought you could be any help to me at all, I might have asked,” Bryn replied, though in truth, he wished he could have. Irritating enough were kidneys that came without instructions; perhaps more irritating were Fedorov sons who came with entirely too much pride.

“You betrayed me,” Roman said.

“You broke a deal,” Bryn corrected. “Betrayal is a soft term. I traffic in absolutes.”

“Well, then I,absolutely,” Roman said, “will not be helping you.”

“Wonderful,” Bryn said. “Again, don’t drown.”

“Don’t waste that kidney,” Roman retorted. “You don’t actually think magic can last if it isn’t preserved, do you, Bridge?”

Smiling came easily to Bryn, even in distress. “And if I were to waste it?”

“I know you won’t. I know for a fact you’ll come to me before you’d let that happen.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You will,” Roman said, sounding certain. “You may not be my friend, Bridge, but you’d better hope I’m yours, because you’ve got nobody else.”

With that, he turned and walked out.

“Witches,” Bryn grumbled under his breath. “Showy little assholes.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” came a voice behind him, and Bryn jumped, turning to find a young woman rippling into being behind him.

It was the same witch who’d come to him before, only she was different now. She had a familiar scent about her, a slightly overripe sweetness she hadn’t had when she’d visited the first time.

“Though,” she mused, “how much better are lawyers, really?”

“Rusalka,” Bryn noted, and the young woman smiled. “You’re Sasha Antonova.”

“In the flesh,” Sasha agreed, spiriting open the desk drawer to Bryn’s right even as he tried hastily to shut it. “So, you managed to get a kidney after all?” Her voice sounded hard, disdainful. “You should know, you didn’t get the one I meant for you to have.”

“You wanted to give me Roman’s,” Bryn said, “but the one I have is more valuable.”

“Yes,” Sasha agreed, and for a moment, her features softened. “And I should never have promised you Lev.”

Bryn opened his mouth to correct her—This belonged to Koschei, not Lev, and by the way, how do you know Lev? Asking for a friend—when it occurred to him that he wasn’t an idiot. He knew perfectly well there were once three Fedorov sons, and it seemed there was also an Antonova who only played at heartlessness, unlike one of the others.

“Shouldn’t gamble with things you’re not willing to lose,” Bryn said instead, and Sasha hardened again, suddenly repulsed.

“I’m not here about that.” She slammed the drawer shut with the heel of her hand. “I came to make another deal with you. A financial one this time.”

“I have money,” Bryn said. “I also already have an Antonova deal in place.”

If one could call it that.

“Which is?” Sasha asked.

“Hardly relevant to you, Rusalka,” Bryn replied, but he considered her offer anyway, observing her as she leaned against his desk. “Give me your terms,” he said eventually, unable to resist his curiosity, “but I suggest you make it interesting.”

Sasha smiled grimly. “I’m tired of my mortal dealings. I want someone I can stand to do business with. Someone strong,” she clarified, “who isn’t a total idiot. I want someone who can help me take down Koschei. Someone who wants him destroyed as badly as I do.”

“Interesting.” Bryn paused, folding his hands. “These are a lot of highly specific details, don’t you think?”

“Many people want Koschei to pay for something,” Sasha said, shrugging. “I doubt I’m the only one he’s ever wronged.”

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