Page 212 of Ashen Torment

“I want to stay here.”

Uncle flings Grandfather to the ground. The cane falls with him, hitting the wood with a crash.

He snatches it up and begins to strike Grandfather, screaming ferociously.

“Pròkliatyi ublìudok, èta tvoià vinà, ty otniàl eyò u menià!”1

One blow after another, the sound of breaking bones can be heard. The servants burst in, seizing my uncle, attempting to restrain him.

“Do not pretend you are not like us, Lyosha,” Oskar whispers to me, to me alone.

The image dissolves.

I pull away from the window, my heart still taut.

If they knew, they would come here at once. There would be no search for truth, no confrontation.

There would be only a massacre.

I sit back in the armchair, slide out a sheet of paper, and take the pen between my fingers.

“Do you truly want to ask Zima?”

I grip the pen.

“Yes, Lucien,” I repeat, feeling the pressure building in my temples. “Yes... Fuck—”

I begin to write, the ink sliding across the page. I sign it, fold it, and place it in the envelope. The heated sealing wax takes shape beneath the ring.

“If you have any other idea, brother, enlighten me.”

“What makes you think he won’t burn the envelope the moment he sees the Ashford seal?”

I squeeze the envelope between my hands.

“Charles is outside the door. Let him in.”

Lucien sighs and heads toward the door.

Charles enters with a composed gait, I hold out the letter to him.

“Take this to Ivan. He is to deliver it in person.”

Lucien’s eyes snap wide.

“You mean to send him all the way to Saint Petersburg?”

I nod, without breaking my gaze from Charles.

“Give Ivan my strict instructions. He must deliver this personally into the hands of Count Oskar Vasiliev.”

Charles bows his head in a swift incline, takes the envelope, and heads for the door.

“Why do you want to send him all that way?”

“Do you wish to go yourself?”

He stiffens.