45
Nikolai
“When I was around Slava’s age, I thought my mother was a princess,” I say, my tone cool and steady despite the witch’s brew boiling in my veins. “Tall, slim, always perfumed and made up, she wore pretty dresses, sparkling jewels, and high heels, even around the house, and she insisted that everything around her be as beautiful as we could make it—especially ourselves.” The memories press down on me, making me feel like the air is disappearing from the room, but I continue. “Valery was just a baby at the time and Alina wasn’t born yet, so Konstantin and I are the only ones who remember those years… the ones when our mother was still somewhat happy.”
“Somewhat?” Chloe’s upturned face reflects both sympathy and wary curiosity as she holds my palm pressed against her chest. “She
