Page 46 of Dark King Daddy

“Neither am I. Sister, it’s too much.”

I hugged him, just for a moment, and them we moved forward.

Uncle Kostya walked on Anton’s other side. He had known Lev for decades. Whatever he felt about the dead man remained behind the formal set of his face.

Daniil saw us before we reached him. His attention fixed first on Anton. Then me.

Anton greeted him first.

“Daniil.”

“Anton. Thank you for coming.”

“We stand with you.”

Simple words.

The men around us heard them.

Daniil’s gaze moved to Uncle Kostya. They exchanged formal greetings. Then he faced me.

“Ksenia.”

“I’m sorry, Daniil.”

The same words he had given me.

His expression did not change.

“Thank you.”

I wanted to say more. I did not know what more could survive in a receiving line beneath the eyes of a hundred men. So I moved on.

Lev’s coffin stood open.

I had seen him alive perhaps fifty times. Always controlled. Always occupying more space than his body required. Death had reduced him.

His face had been prepared well, but nothing could restore the force that once lived behind it. His hands rested over his chest. A cross lay between them.

Yelena stood near the coffin, but she had not approached it.

Sal remained beside her. His hand hovered near the small of her back without touching.

Kiryl stood several feet away. He stared at his father’s face with naked dread.

Arkady stood behind him. Nikita spoke quietly with an older mourner near the aisle.

For all the danger attached to the Sokolov name, they looked like what they were.

Five children trying to bury the man who had made them.

Kiryl shifted. His coat collar had folded inward on one side. He did not notice.

Daniil did.

He stepped away from the receiving line for less than ten seconds. He reached Kiryl, straightened the collar, and fastened the top button.

“You’re cold,” he said.