I don’t understand. Dmitry won. He killed Rurik. So why the hesitation?
I’ve stayed away from him long enough and suddenly, I can’t bear it another second. I step around the blood and wrap an arm around Dmitry.
His face is bruised and swollen. He’s sweaty and breathing heavily and covered in blood.
He tucks an arm around my back and continues looking towards Rurik’s men.
“Well?” he asks with a shrug. “Does it count?”
Does it count? Of course it counts. It has to count. Right?
“Oh,” I say, realizing the problem. I helped him. For a moment, I’m embarrassed and maybe even ashamed, but as the absurdity of the situation washes over me, I’m furious. “Oh.”
Everyone is watching me, and I can’t believe there is any question about the legitimacy of who won that fight. I can’t believe anyone w
