Page 106 of Marrying the Savage

“Why do you have it?”

“Because I complained.”

He looks impressed. “That works?”

“Rarely. Use with caution.”

“Can I complain and get a horse?”

“Start smaller.”

He picks up General Pepper. “A bigger horse?”

“Excellent negotiation.”

We play for a while. Or rather, Maksim plays and I offer strategic commentary from the bench like a duchess of questionable military expertise. The navy loses twice, recovers once, and then forms an alliance with the sea monsters after what Maksim describes as “talks with snacks.”

“Very realistic,” I say.

The wind grows colder. I wrap my arms around myself and try not to look toward the driveway beyond the side of the house, the one I know cars use when they return.

I fail. Again.

No cars. No Damir. Nothing but the gates, the trees, the cliff, and the annoying fact that I am aware of his absence like a missing sound.

Maksim notices me looking. “Uncle Damir has guns,” he says, as if that should comfort me.

“That doesn’t make people immortal.”

“My papa has guns too.”

“Your entire family has guns. That is not the reassurance you think it is.”

He studies me carefully. Then he says, “Are you worried?”

“No.” The answer comes quickly.

Maksim tilts his head.

I sigh. “A little.”

He seems satisfied with that. “Papa says worrying is what people do when they don’t get to fight.”

That sounds exactly like something Grigori would say.

Before I can answer, a woman’s voice cuts across the terrace. “Maksim!”

The sharpness of it makes him flinch.

I turn to see a woman hurrying through the terrace doors, her pale coat whipping around her knees, blond hair pinned tightly at the nape of her neck. She’s beautiful in a cold, careful way, all high cheekbones and controlled mouth, but her face is white with panic.

“Maksim, what are you doing out here?”

The boy scrambles to his feet. “I was playing.”

“You were told not to come onto the terrace without me or Nanny.”

“I wasn’t alone. Sofia is here.”