Natalia’s POV
By now, the house was quiet.
The kids were tucked in, The pyres—thank the Goddess—had been dismantled without a flame ever touching them. Andrei and I made our way upstairs to our bedroom, his arm slung over my shoulders like he needed the support. Or maybe I was the one who needed it.
The door clicked shut behind us, and Andrei let go of me and sank onto the edge of the mattress, his head dropping into his hands. He looked exhausted, battered—his shirt torn in places, dried blood flaking off his skin. But it was the way he avoided my gaze that was the most upsetting.
“Andrei,” I said softly, crossing the room to stand in front of him. I reached out, tilting his chin up so he had to look at me. Those green eyes were now framed by creases that hadn’t been there yesterday.
