ra

sunlight, but with

like a strange comfort. The velvet sofa where Eliga had spent the night was empty, the cushion barely ho

lf as Anja Kowalski, sent to assist me. Her smile was politely d

ce I had gathered in my past life. She wasn't

aid, her voice smooth as silk as she moved to the vast walk-in

d day dress. As she laid it on the bed, she let

she murmured, her eyes lingering for a fraction of

ooking for proof. For the marks of a consumm

I replied, my tone light, airy, and laced wi

a pair of shoes, I moved to the vanity. My

patch of skin just below my collarbone. I held the painful pressur

skin, perfectly mimicking the bruising of an

g off polished silver and crystal. Eliga was already there, seated to the right of the head of the table. He was dress

Russo. Her hair was snow-white, pulled back in an elegant, unforgiving chignon, and she wore a simple bu

rning, Matron," I said, using

She gestured to the empty

in a thorough, intrusive assessment. I felt her eyes lock ont

ming blush to rise in my cheeks. It was pure political thea

ith age and authority. It was the same question Anja had

int of newlywed shyness to soften my expres

o mine. A dark, razor-sharp gleam of amusement danced in their icy depths. He knew exa

on my skin to my blushing face, and then to her gr

. It wasn't quite a smile, but the hard li

ice. She turned to Eliga. "You have chosen a c

low acknowledgement, re

ion. But in the Syndicate, truth was secondary to presentation. She needed a daughter-in-law who understo

her private sitting room. Without preamble, she produced

The staff, the menus, the household accounts.

ransfer of power.

ace. I knew exactly what she expected. I was supposed to accept t

ly, pushed her han

the intricate politics of this family. My primary duty, as dictated by the blood pact, is to my husband and

e a fool to think I could manage this fortress better than you. I w

sister, Gayla, and his stepmother, Eleonora-the wife of the current Don- would see it as a declaration of wa

ny hint of weakness or false modesty. Finding none

dmiration in her eyes. She withdrew the keys, the trap safely disarmed. "Very

far more dangerous. "They wil

refusal; she respected the po

riarch. Now, it was ti