CREATURE

・chapter 37・

It was quiet by the lake that morning.

There was nothing in the world besides cold, fresh country air, swans leaving ripples on the water's surface, and the rustle of a winter breeze through the birch trees. Dew on the branches glimmered in the light like jewels, dripping off falling onto the wet grass. The world had slowed down, the world had gone quiet, for a moment.

Asya watched as her breaths came out in misty puffs, stuffing her hands deeper into the warm depths of her coat pockets before tilting her head back. After spending the night before listening to a story about a potato come to life she'd been afforded yet another night of blissfully peaceful sleep, only being woken by Tanya's giddy announcement that it was Christmas come morning.

Over breakfast Miranda had told her that it was the first white Chirstmas they'd had in years, and added that with any small measure of luck they'd all get snowed in and her houseguests would be trapped in the house indefinitely. She'd smiled, momentarily saddened that tomorrow they'd head back to London, but made herself promise that she wouldn't think about that just yet. For today, she told herself, she was going to live in her bubble and damn the consequences.

Wanting to soak up as much fresh air as possible she'd taken the dogs out for a walk with Roman, first out to the stables and the grassy hills around the manor, finally coming to a halt at the lake at the foot of the lawns. The Ridgebacks were sniffing around the reeds, eyeing the swans with a bit too much interest while the Beagles were making a joint effort out of carrying a stick. A stick Roman claimed would be used as ammunition if Nancy reached for her shovel again.

Despite herself, she couldn't help but notice that he seemed more at ease, and less like the version of him she knew from London. Perhaps she should have taken advantage of the time alone and asked him a few questions, about his family, his life, or any number of the unanswered things that had sprung up over the last two days. But where did she start, what did she lead with, and how the hell did she justify being interested in the first place?

'Can I ask you something?' he said, throwing a stick into the treeline for the dogs to go sniff out.

She glanced over at him and gave him a half-smile. 'Depends.'

'It's about your mother.'

Her breathing hitched. Her throat went dry and prickly, the mossy ground beneath her feet feeling unstable all of a sudden. The mere mention of the woman who had haunted her memories for the past eight years was enough to send her nervous system packing. She forced herself to shake her head and respond with nothing but a nonchalant shrug, praying it was some innocent question about her career or the family fortune. 'What about her?'

'When I first asked about you I got a copy of your records.' he explained, crossing his arms over his chest. 'I recognized her name, in fact I'm pretty sure I've met her. Not formally, but backstage maybe once or twice.'

He paused, looking at her like he was waiting for a response. She felt like a deer in the headlights, shifting uncomfortably on her feet while she awaited the inevitable slew of questions that were surely about to follow. About her father, her mother's illustrious career, about why she retired, where she is now.

But those questions never came.

He stayed still, silent, watching her. It was then that she realised there was no slew of questions, he wasn't trying to pry or draw the answers out of her, he was giving her the chance to say whatever she was willing to give up. Maybe he didn't know that for the past eight years she'd avoided talking about Dimochka Radzevich at any and all costs, even to Julian. Talking about it meant digging it all up, the memories, the fragmented pieces of her childhood she could never make fit together no matter how hard she tried.