one for my enemy bot

Marya Antonova forced herself to remain everything that she did not feel as she blinked away her mind’s portrait of Dimitri Fedorov’s face.

LEV: I’m also thinking about how much I want to see you LEV: can I kiss you? actually no don’t tell me LEV: surprise me SASHA: I honestly don’t know what to say to any of this LEV: good LEV: personally I like the prospect of rendering you speechless

Is it too soon to love you, Sasha? Lev had asked her the night before, holding her in his arms between episodes of reprehensible choices; between equally inadvisable and undeniable moments of passion, all of which would surely haunt her for the rest of her life.

Her grey-blue eyes narrowed as she glanced at Lev, clearly unapologetic, but she hadn’t dragged her frustration away from the blond who seemed to be pursuing her.

“Composure? You’ve already lost it,” Sasha assured him. “It’s long gone.” “Maybe so,” Lev agreed. “But I’d trade it for you any day.”

“We’ll have to fix it,” Roman cut in firmly, dark gaze cutting sideways to Lev. “We can’t let Baba Yaga and her daughters get away with this. We have to strike back, Lev, where it hurts.”

“Time’s up,” Sasha said, holding up her watch, and Lev groaned, letting his forehead drop to her shoulders. “You’re ruining me.”

But Roman knew Marya Antonova performed nothing with innocence.

Magic was one thing, indiscriminate to merit and easy enough to be born with if the circumstances were right, but possessing power was quite another.

“You don’t think Sasha can do it,” Yaga supplied bluntly. “Is that it?” Silence. “Or,” Yaga noted, “is it that you simply don’t want her to?”

Roman had a spine like lightning, footfall like thunder. He was the edge of a sharp, bloodied knife.

Bryn considered it. “You’re that good?” “I’m that good,” she confirmed, and added, “My sister taught me.” Interesting. Increasingly so.

Could he harm Sasha? No, probably not. But could he rob her? Almost certainly, so long as the two were distinct. After all, her sister had nearly cost him his brother. It was a fair payment, Lev thought. A reparation of sorts.

“Dima is something very rare, something very bold, something that catches in the light. Romik is like me, a man of duty. A watchful man. But you are very honorable.” He turned, glancing at Lev. “You are the most loyal of them all, I suspect.”

“She brought me back, you idiot!” Dimitri yelled, torn between fury and pain. “What have you done, Roma? Yaga will have your fucking head for this—”

Whether it would be her Masha, who had been at her side since birth, and quite literally a piece of her (her blood, her name, her heart) or whether it would be Dimitri Fedorov’s Masha, who was all flushed cheeks and tender smiles, melted to a shallow pool of wonder at his touch.

SASHA: hate to break it to you but you left ‘too eager’ about two hours ago and now you’re somewhere in the realm of ‘zealously available’ LEV: interesting theory

His face pressed to the bloodied floor as he called out to her, voiceless and pleading: Masha, Masha, Masha.

Koschei wore a number of occupational hats, most notoriously the one belonging to the procurer of rare and sometimes dangerous magical objects, but also those of landlord, lender, smuggler, and tight-fisted consoler of the unfortunate.

“Sasha,” he exhaled breathlessly, shaking his head and tilting her chin up for her to look at him, “I do love you. I will love you.” He laughed again, bitterly this time. “I will love you even when I wrong you, and for that—for this—I’m so fucking sorry.”