Page 117 of Playing Her Game

"Careful, Mother. Lenzin is a hockey player."

She ignores the warning. "You have responsibilities, Anna. You represent this family, and you've been behaving like a teenager with no sense of consequence. People are asking questions. They saw you kiss that man in public. They want to know what has happened to you, who you're with, and I've had to make excuses for you."

My father stands near the window, watching the snow outside as though the conversation doesn't concern him. He won't intervene. He never does when she's building momentum.

"I don't need you making excuses for me."

"Then stop giving me reasons to." Her voice sharpens. "This infatuation with that man is embarrassing. He's unsuitable in every possible way, and I won't stand by while you humiliate yourself."

I refuse to defend Rez to her. She's already decided what he is, and nothing I say will change her mind.

"Go upstairs and change. We're having dinner at five, and I expect you to dress appropriately."

I glance at the clock. "Dressed? Who is⁠—"

"Don't be obtuse, Anna. Go."

I go upstairs without arguing because fighting now would only give her ammunition. In my room, I pull a black dress from the wardrobe and change mechanically, hating that I know exactly what appropriate means.

I stand in front of the mirror, gather my hair, twist it up, and secure it with pins. A few strands fall loose around my face, and I tuck them back before reaching for my makeup.

My gaze catches on the mark at the side of my neck.

Daniil.

I lean closer to the mirror and dab concealer over the faint bruise. I add another layer, blending it carefully into my skin until the makeup hides the mark.

I wish I didn't have to cover it.

The thought comes with a small, private ache. I don't regret the mark or the reason it's there. I regret that even this, something that belongs only to me, has to be hidden before I face my family.

I finish my makeup, check my reflection one last time, and set my shoulders. The woman looking back at me knows how to play her part.

I leave my room and head downstairs, already preparing myself for another round of questions and disapproval.

Then I see him.

Matthias is standing in the drawing room, and I nearly miss a step.

For a moment, I'm certain I've mistaken him for someone else. It's been years since I've seen him, years since we were in the same room, and I wasn't expecting to find him in my parents' house.

He looks up at the sound of my footsteps.

Our eyes meet.

I don't know what to say. His face is familiar, of course, but time has changed him in ways I hadn't prepared myself for. He's older now, no longer the boy I remember. And suddenly I'm remembering things I'd rather leave where they belong, in the past.

The pregnancy. The betrayal. The miscarriage.

Lenzin sitting beside me when Matthias wasn't there.

I've forgiven him. We were kids, and I've never wanted one terrible mistake to define the rest of his life. But forgiveness doesn't mean I've forgotten and seeing him now brings back a hurt I'd grown accustomed to carrying quietly.

"Matthias," I manage.

"Anna." His expression shifts, surprise giving way to something warmer. "It's been a long time."

"It has."