"Take her to the Kirov," he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Take her to her lover."
"My children, Sanya-"
"You mean, my children."
He paused long enough for the horror of that to really permeate her senses.
"You would take my children?" she cried, suddenly, the mother wolf coming out in her now, at the mention of her offspring. Oh, yes, Nika. If there are teeth in that pretty mouth, if there is viciousness in any bitch, the cubs will bring it out, let there be no doubt of it.
"You have no children, Isaeva. And soon you won't have that name."
He shrugged, straightening the cuff of his sleeve with a minimal gesture. His sand-blond hair was always darker than hers. He looked immaculate, coiffed. At disparate advantage to her wrecked and ruined state.
"At least let me take Andrei," she pleaded, desperately.
"Andrei?" he laughed, as if she'd said something uproariously funny. "What makes you think I'd give you my son?"
It was as close to an open secret as anything could be. Known, but never spoken of. A white rhinoceros, crushing pianos in his father's house.
Ilarion could not manage to make it vanish from his memory, despite the years that intervened.
Throughout his life, Lasha himself had never spoken of it. Never shared the weight of knowing. Never articulated what occurred that night between his mother and his father, and two of Aleksandr's Ministry cronies.
He had been the only witness; at least, the only witness old enough to understand the travesty of what he was seeing.
It was not until on year during White Nights that he finally unbuttoned his lips and let the story spill and tumble into Nika's lap, and felt the immense unburdening that confession could provide.
Since their division, the weight seemed to have returned threefold.
Ilarion had never told Oleksei about mother, or anything about his family, really. It did not enter the bounds of business, nor friendship. Family was family, and there was no need to subject Oleksei to his.
He didn't know how to put the words in context now, to answer what Oleksei had asked, without opening his vestiture far too wide and letting in the light.
Ilarion stared straight ahead at the wall, coldly seeking words.
"My mother," he said finally, "was unfaithful. My father had her followed, and apprehended in the act. Maks and Ivan dragged her back to the house to face him. He said nothing to me of it. I just happened to be there when they brought her home."
He sighed, hating the act of disclosure, the nakedness of revelation.
"He ordered her out of our home, in front of me. Dressed her down, in front of me. And when she fell apart, he accused her of upsetting the children. Upsetting his children."
Lasha paused.
"That was when he informed her that we were no longer hers. She was stricken, devastated. She begged him for mercy. Not for forgiveness. Mercy. It was a miscalculation on her part, trying to find his heart in the snow."
The bitterness in Lasha's tone was soft and leading.
" 'At least let me take Andrei,' " she said. ' "You've already gotten to Ilarion- I won't let you do it to Andrei, I won't let you warp him into a beast like you."
no subject
Her trance broke.
"No, Sanya..."
"Take her to the Kirov," he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Take her to her lover."
"My children, Sanya-"
"You mean, my children."
He paused long enough for the horror of that to really permeate her senses.
"You would take my children?" she cried, suddenly, the mother wolf coming out in her now, at the mention of her offspring. Oh, yes, Nika. If there are teeth in that pretty mouth, if there is viciousness in any bitch, the cubs will bring it out, let there be no doubt of it.
"You have no children, Isaeva. And soon you won't have that name."
He shrugged, straightening the cuff of his sleeve with a minimal gesture. His sand-blond hair was always darker than hers. He looked immaculate, coiffed. At disparate advantage to her wrecked and ruined state.
"At least let me take Andrei," she pleaded, desperately.
"Andrei?" he laughed, as if she'd said something uproariously funny. "What makes you think I'd give you my son?"
It was as close to an open secret as anything could be. Known, but never spoken of. A white rhinoceros, crushing pianos in his father's house.
Ilarion could not manage to make it vanish from his memory, despite the years that intervened.
Throughout his life, Lasha himself had never spoken of it. Never shared the weight of knowing. Never articulated what occurred that night between his mother and his father, and two of Aleksandr's Ministry cronies.
He had been the only witness; at least, the only witness old enough to understand the travesty of what he was seeing.
It was not until on year during White Nights that he finally unbuttoned his lips and let the story spill and tumble into Nika's lap, and felt the immense unburdening that confession could provide.
Since their division, the weight seemed to have returned threefold.
Ilarion had never told Oleksei about mother, or anything about his family, really. It did not enter the bounds of business, nor friendship. Family was family, and there was no need to subject Oleksei to his.
He didn't know how to put the words in context now, to answer what Oleksei had asked, without opening his vestiture far too wide and letting in the light.
Ilarion stared straight ahead at the wall, coldly seeking words.
"My mother," he said finally, "was unfaithful. My father had her followed, and apprehended in the act. Maks and Ivan dragged her back to the house to face him. He said nothing to me of it. I just happened to be there when they brought her home."
He sighed, hating the act of disclosure, the nakedness of revelation.
"He ordered her out of our home, in front of me. Dressed her down, in front of me. And when she fell apart, he accused her of upsetting the children. Upsetting his children."
Lasha paused.
"That was when he informed her that we were no longer hers. She was stricken, devastated. She begged him for mercy. Not for forgiveness. Mercy. It was a miscalculation on her part, trying to find his heart in the snow."
The bitterness in Lasha's tone was soft and leading.
" 'At least let me take Andrei,' " she said. ' "You've already gotten to Ilarion- I won't let you do it to Andrei, I won't let you warp him into a beast like you."
The clock ticked softly on the mantel.
"My father outright refused."