Chapter 19 "It's a game, Vesper. Uncle Kovan says it's a game of pretend." I meet Kovan's eyes over Luka's head. The weight of what we're asking this child to do is like a giant palm, pressing me down into the crust of the earth, smushing me flat and lifeless. A game. That's what Kovan wants me to call this whole, messy charade. But I've seen enough broken children to know that these games aren't always fun. I kneel in front of Luka, my hands resting gently on his knees. "How do you feel about this game, sweetheart?" His face scrunches in confusion. "I... I like games. I think." I don't look at Kovan. Can't. Not when I'm about to ask his nephew to choose between the people who are supposed to love him most. "But this game means you might live away from your mother. Maybe for a long time. Maybe permanently." Luka's eyes dart to his uncle, panic flickering across his young features. "It's okay," I whisper, drawing his attention back to me. "You can tell me the truth. I only want to help you. I just want to make sure you live with the person you want to live with." Kovan moves away from us, his footsteps retreating until I can't feel his presence anymore. Smart man. This conversation needs to happen without his shadow looming over it. "I... I love my mama," Luka says quietly, his voice small and careful. "But sometimes..." His bottom lip trembles as he falls silent for a moment. When he speaks again, it's barely audible. "Sometimes, I don't like her very much." I feel a sharp pain sear through my heart. Squeezing his hands, I give Luka the best smile I can muster. "That's okay, you know. That's normal. I used to feel the same way about my mother sometimes." His eyes widen. "Really? Was your mama mean to you?" "Yes and no. She was strict sometimes. She had rules and she really, really wanted me to follow them. Like, she didn't want me to be a doctor, for instance." Luka recoils, as if the mere thought of me not doing that makes no sense. I almost laugh at the purity of it. It occurs to me as a passing thought, an inconsequential thought, that I've never been prouder to do what I do than I am right now, when this little boy looks at me like I was meant to do it. "But why?" he asks. "My daddy was a doctor, too," I explain. "And he worked really hard. He worked a lot and it didn't leave time for him to do many other things. I think my mother wanted me to have more of a life than he did. She wanted me to have a family one day, and she wanted me to be able to be home with them for dinner every night." "Oh. Okay." He still looks unsure, though. Brows touching, forehead furrowed, gray eyes clouded and confused. "But she... She didn't ever hurt you, right?" I pause. My chest aches with an unnamable pain. "No. Not physically." "She didn't box your ears when you cried about missing your papa?" I grip the edges of his seat to keep myself from falling over. There's blood thundering in my ears now. "No." "She didn't lock you in the attic for two days and forget to give you dinner?" I didn't think it was possible to hate a person I've never met. But Yana Makhova has just proved me wrong. I don't even have an image of her face to focus my rage towards and still, I want to spit in it. "No, Luka," I say as gently as I can. "She didn't." He looks down at his feet, swinging them back and forth. "She pinches me when I cry about missing Papa." It takes all my effort to speak calmly. "That's not okay, Luka," I say instead of unleashing every curse I know on this witch who by some godforsaken miracle birthed an angel. "Mamas aren't supposed to hurt their children. Not ever." He shrugs. "Uncle Kovan doesn't hurt me. He makes sure I eat. He helps me with my homework. And he built me my own galaxy." "Your... galaxy?" His face lights up. "Want to see it? Please? The social worker isn't here yet." I glance toward the windows overlooking the driveway. We probably have a few minutes. "Okay. Show me." He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the stairs, his excitement infectious. "You're going to love it. I promise. It's the best thing ever." We go jogging through the house. This place is stunning in a way that catches me by surprise. I expected luxury-Kovan's world demands it, of course. But what I didn't expect was warmth. There's warmth here, though. There's so much warmth. Color splashes across every room. Luka's drawings hang in actual frames on the walls. A naturescape mural flows up the staircase, painted with such care that I have to stop and stare. Forest melting into ocean pouring into river flowing into jungle. "Did you help with this?" I ask, tracing a painted butterfly with my finger. "I did the leaves." He stops and points proudly to tiny thumbprints scattered throughout the trees. "Papa and Uncle Kovan and Uncle Pavel did the rest. It took forever." The image forms in my mind-three grown men painting a mural for one little boy. I picture paint flecks on Kovan's nose, his fingertips stained green, his eyes narrowed as he focuses because God forbid so much as a single leaf be done badly or out of place. My throat tightens unexpectedly. "It's gorgeous, Luka. This is really something." He nods and then the sprint continues. Luka drags me up the stairs and down a hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, running beneath spiky, modern chandeliers that catch the sunlight and glow like a canopy of diamonds. The second door opens into the most elaborate playroom I've ever seen. Train sets, bookshelves that reach the ceiling, toy chests painted in bright colors. "Close your eyes," Luka commands, rushing to the window seat. I do as he says, just in time to hear the flip of a switch. A soft click, then a whirring. Darkness takes over as blackout curtains descend over the windows on the far wall. Slowly, the warm, hazy, red depth that's all I can see through my closed eyelids deepens into black. "Okay. You can open them now." When I do, the room has transformed. Stars now bloom across the ceiling, constellations swirling against a backdrop of deep purple and midnight blue. The Milky Way stretches across one corner. Ursa Major glows in another. As I gaze overhead, a comet hurtles across the inky depths. My breath catches. "Luka..." "Uncle Kovan built it for my seventh birthday," he whispers, awe still coloring his voice even though he must have seen this a million times, a billion, a trillion. "He said every boy should have his own galaxy." I sink down onto the thick carpet, staring up at the artificial sky. It's perfect. Too perfect. The kind of thing that takes months to plan and install, the kind of gesture that speaks of desperate love. "We sleep in here sometimes," Luka says, settling beside me. "Uncle Kovan tells me stories about the constellations." "What kind of stories?" "About aliens and angels and how the stars watch over us when we're scared." He looks at me seriously. "Do you think that's true?" I pause to consider my thoughts for a moment. "I think anyone who loves you enough to build you a galaxy will always watch over you." "Watch over both of us," he corrects. His smile is undimmable. "Because you don't have to leave anymore, you know? Uncle Kovan says you're his girlfriend now." At that, it takes all I have to hide my wince from him. "It's... it's really complicated, sweetheart." I hate that my words make him frown. "Adults always say that when they don't want to explain something." He pouts, chin wobbling. I wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "You're right. But sometimes, complicated things are worth it." "Like the game of pretend?" "Especially the game of pretend." Voices drift up from downstairs, sharp and official. My stomach clenches. "That's her," Luka whispers, suddenly tense and afraid against my side. "The social worker." I peek over the railing and see Kovan facing a tall woman with severely pulled-back hair and a clipboard clutched in her hands. Even from up here, she radiates authority and haughty skepticism. "I'm scared," Luka breathes. "Hey." I turn his face toward mine. "Look at me. We're going to take care of you, okay? Your uncle and I, we won't let anything bad happen." "Promise?" I hold out my pinky to him. "I swear."