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They may be hiding something entirely different, but I no longer know how to separate their secrets from the danger to Anya. I have suspected for years that Viktor lied about Sofia. I remember their silences when I entered a room, how quickly he understood her moods, how much he still resents me.

And Irina has spent years behaving as though patience would eventually entitle her to me.

I should have stopped that before Elara arrived. I should have said plainly that there would never be anything between us, instead of relying on declined invitations and distance to do it for me.

Now I’m wondering whether every failure of mine has put my daughter within someone’s reach.

A knock interrupts me.

Elara comes in carrying something small in her closed hand. She shuts the door and stays beside it.

“I have something for you.”

I get up. “What is it?”

She looks at me, then down at her hand.

For a moment, I think she might turn around and leave.

“Elara?”

She shakes her head. “I thought I knew how to say it.”

I cross the room and touch her cheek. Her eyes close immediately, and she leans into my palm before she seems to realize she is doing it.

“Tell me.”

“Do you really have to go?”

“Yes.”

Her mouth trembles. I hold her face more carefully, as though that can undo the answer.

“I need to get Anya somewhere I can protect her.”

“I know.”

“I wish⁠—”

I stop. I’m about to tell her I wish things were different, when there are things I could still change simply by opening my mouth.

Come with me. I love you.

Both are true. I love her, and I want her so much that I could make leaving everything behind sound easy. I could promise to arrange her work, her travel, whatever she needed, and never admit how much of it would be for me.

I lower her onto the bed and stop when she keeps her arms around my neck. “Stay here a minute,” she whispers.

“I’m here.”

She shakes her head slightly, and I understand that she means exactly where I am, with my face against hers and no space for either of us to pull away.

So I stay.

Her fingers move through my hair. I close my eyes and let her touch me, although being cared for is harder than I expect tonight. I know what my hands did this morning. She takes one of them anyway and kisses the uninjured knuckles.

“Elara.”

She looks up at me. “What?”