Blood & Bond [Book Five of The City of Eternity Series]

5.3: Simmering

The walk home was quieter than usual. I was weighed down with the shopping bags that Valentyna had thrown down in the park; she'd picked up the box from Soleil and wordlessly gestured to the other things - a demand, not a request. She'd at least taken the delicate things - the box from the bakery in one hand and the bouquet of flowers from Helena's in the other. Normally, she would've been chattering away, filling the silence with her thoughts, but today she was lost in her own head. Brooding, maybe. It wasn't like her, and I missed the sound of her voice more than I'd expected.

She kept staring off into the distance, her usual bright energy simmering down into something more subdued. Her smile was gone, replaced by an expression that I couldn't quite read—confused, maybe even troubled. Whatever it was, she wasn't herself, and the silence between us felt unnatural. I wanted to ask her what was on her mind, but I held back. When Valentyna wanted to talk, she'd talk. And when she didn't, well, there was no point in pushing.

The towering skyscraper that we called home came into view, a massive structure of glass and steel that loomed over the rest of the city. My father had claimed the entire building for himself. No one else lived here—no tenants, no neighbours—just empty floors that echoed with silence. Most of it was abandoned, save for the weekly cleaning crew from the Southern district who came by to make sure the place didn't fall apart.

We reached the entrance, and I handed off the bags to Fresia, the guard stationed at the door. He gave me a nervous look as he took them, and instantly I knew what that meant. My father had already called down, demanding to know where we were. The pit in my stomach tightened. I glanced at Valentyna, who handed the bouquet to Fresia with an almost delicate touch, her fingers lingering on the flowers a little longer than usual.

Fresia looked over the bouquet carefully, as if inspecting each bloom had some hidden importance, and for a moment, the two of them shared a silent exchange. I couldn't hear what they were thinking, but I knew the look—Fresia silently appreciating the flowers, and Valentyna thanking him with a small nod. It was the kind of wordless communication we'd grown used to around here.

The elevator ride up was tense. Valentyna, still quiet, had started tapping her fingers against the lid of the bakery box. A nervous habit. It was strange seeing her like this—nervous, fidgety—when she was usually so composed. Her fingers drummed lightly, and I could feel the anxiety radiating off her. She wasn't saying it, but I knew she was dreading whatever was waiting for us upstairs.

She shouldn't be, though. I knew our father's temper well enough to know it was unlikely to land on her. He had a soft spot for her, always had. No matter how bad things got, no matter how angry he was, Valentyna was rarely the one in the firing line. It was me who'd have to deal with it. I'd known that for years, ever since we were kids. And honestly, I'd already made peace with it. Still, I could see the tension in her face, the way her fingers tapped faster the closer we got. Her unease was so obvious, it almost made me feel worse.