By now, I’m starting to feel a deep sense of lingering resentment. I knew our marriage was arranged for Agafon to gain power by tapping into my family’s reputation, but still, I hoped he would give some thought to how I’d be spending my days. But by leaving me to my own devices, which at the current moment consists of none, he makes it clear that my feelings aren’t a part of the equation.
Just then, my phone buzzes. My heart lurches at the sound. These days, even receiving a text message counts as excitement. I sigh and run a hand through my hair.What has my life come to?
I put in my passcode and see I’ve received a message from Sofia.
“Helloooo, bridey. How’s it going?”
My family is always checking in on me. Nikolai calls on his way to work nearly every day. Dima and Fedor send constant texts. My brothers provide regular updates about their whereabouts, what they can share without giving away toomuch. Last I checked, Samuil had joined Lion and Benedikt in Moscow.
They all had just one question.How are you doing?
How am I doing? I could cause trouble. I could throw a tantrum and demand attention. I could call my siblings and complain. But what would that accomplish? I'd just confirm what everyone already thinks—that I'm the baby of the Orlov family who needs their help.
That would only make them worry and, worse, interfere, which would make Agafon angry. So what do I do instead? I lie and keep up appearances that all is well. I send back exuberant texts filled with excited exclamation marks and emojis. I send them any photos I can of things that make my life seem exciting and happy—my bedroom, the house, my meals, and the lovely library.
I turn back to the text, realizing I need to send Sofia back a reply, proof of how content I am. But seeing as there’s nothing new to fake joy over around the house, I decide to step out and explore the grounds.
The autumn air is crisp, carrying the scent of the pine trees that surround the property.
The guard at the door straightens when he sees me. “Mrs. Letvin,” he says with a nod.
“I'm just going for a walk around the grounds,” I explain, wondering if I need permission.
“Of course. Please stay within the perimeter fence.”
Translation: Don't try to run away.
I smile sweetly. “Of course.”
The gardens are beautiful, I'll give them that. It’s sprawling with manicured lawns that stretch out like the sea with no end in sight, beautiful hedges cut into intricate patterns, and beautiful fountains all around. And then there’s the matter of flowers. So many flowers, spilling out from all over the place. Rows of late-blooming roses line the stone pathway leading to a gazeb,o which sits at the center, painted white and surrounded by a small pond where koi fish swim lazily.
As I walk, I see a few guards on patrol. I count at least twelve and these are the ones who aren’t hiding.
I walk over to the pond and take some photos. “Having a great day! Decided to feed the fish,” I tell Sofia. There. That’s done.
I follow the path around to the back of the house, where it opens up to a vast lawn. A tennis court that looks barely used stands to one side, and beyond that, a small orchard. I wonder if anyone ever sits out here, enjoying the view. Somehow, I can't picture Agafon relaxing out here with a picnic.
The sound of a car engine draws my attention back to the house. It’s a convoy of cars, but I don’t recognize it as Agafon’s. I hear doors opening and voices drift toward me—laughing, teasing, alive in a way this house hasn't been since I arrived.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I make my way back around to the front entrance. Standing on the steps is a group of seven, contemplating what to do next.
“I told you we should've called first,” says a tall man with Agafon's dark hair but a much friendlier face.
“And miss seeing the look on Agafon's face when we all show up? No way,” replies a woman with the sharpest, most beautiful cheekbones I’ve ever seen.
“He's not even here,” says another with a groan.
“Well, we can wait for him. Our brother must surely miss us,” another woman laughs and makes it sound like anear threat,in that endearing way only sisters have.
That’s when I understand. Of course.His siblings.I quickly scan over the group of seven and notice that Nikandr isn’t there. He wasn’t at the wedding either. It’s strange, his absence.
I step forward and speak up with a bright smile on my face. “Hi there!”
They all turn toward me and break out into smiles. One of the taller men steps forward with arms wide. “And here she is! The new Mrs. Letvin, in the flesh.”
I feel my cheeks warm as he walks over to pull me into a hug. “Hi,” I manage, smoothing down my simple sundress, suddenly aware that I'm underdressed compared to them. “I'm Lilibeth.”
“We know who you are,” says the woman, stepping forward. “We were at the wedding, but there were so many people, we didn’t get time to talk. I'm Tatiana, Agafon's sister.”
