Page 23 of Depraved Royals

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Page 23 of Depraved Royals

Unlike most, I choose not to live in denial.

With no one in charge, everyone would fall to squabbling. All the shitty little hustles they have going on would fade away to nothing, and they’d be left without support or investment to prop them up. So Fyodor’s ‘friends’ will sit before me in this mansion, in the same lounge, and ask for my patronage.

“There’ll be time for you to have an audience with my husband,” Marta says, “but later. As for Dani, she won’t be up until after lunchtime as the doctor advised her to take some bed rest.”

There’s no way that dirty girl was asleep while I did those things to her. She just didn’t want to say anything, and neither did I.

It felt like a spell or hypnosis or something. A single word could have been enough to blow the moment away forever, leaving us with nothing but grim reality.

Marta is staring at me.

“Oh. You mean I don’t need to hang around guarding her?”

“Exactly,” she says. “So don’t lurk in here, cramping my style. Go do something productive with your time.” She holds out a key. “Here. You can take a car from the garage, and when Fyodor loses his shit about it, I’ll take the blame.”

* * *

I wander outside. The sunshine is warming the garden, releasing the scent of jasmine into the air.

My sister Vera liked jasmine flowers.

We used to have a floral border similar to this one, and when she was a little kid, my sister tended it lovingly. On her church confirmation day, she was ready early and decided to give her flowers a drink while she waited for Idina.

Vera went into the garden with her little watering can and poured water over the jasmine patch that got the most sun. I still remember her singing as she went about her work, not noticing that her white patent shoes were getting covered in soil.

She never saw our mother approaching until it was too late.

Idina grabbed Vera’s arm and dragged her onto the path, cursing at her about the state of her shoes. The poor kid was bewildered, but she knew better than to cry. Like Simeon and me, she wasted oceans of tears on our mother before learning it was pointless.

Vera could do nothing but watch as Idina crouched down and pulled handfuls of jasmine flowers up by the stems, dragging the delicate roots from the earth.

“You made me do this!” she shrieked at Vera. “After everything I do for you. I buy you a beautiful church outfit, and you hurt me like this by ruining it?”

Vera stammered when she was upset.

“M-m-m-m…”

“Mur mur mur!” Vera yelled. “Be quiet. Brush off your shoes and get in the car.”

We sat quietly in church, watching as the priest gave Vera into God’s care. She was as still as a mannequin, her face mask-like as she went through the motions.

We all knew God wouldn’t protect us.

Vera hasn’t stammered since, and she never cries either.

My cell phone buzzes in my pocket, shattering the bitter memory. I look at the caller ID.

Speak of the devil.

I walk away quickly in case someone overhears, and it’s not until I round the hedge at the end of the path that I slide the button to green.

“Idina,” I say. “Good morning.”

“Simeon and Vera watched the whole thing. You got Dani out and left with Fyodor, so what’s happening? Is he dead yet?”

Oh, hi there, Kal. How are you? Not injured or anything after running into a burning building?

“No, he is not dead yet, for fuck’s sake. I will kill him when I can do it and escape. I need to come back and take control when emotions aren’t running as high.”




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