Page 15 of Jewel of the Assassin

“Is that a crow?” my wife asks.

Zina beams, eyeing her faithful companion. “Of course, Milaya. I’m certain your memory of him will come back soon. You know he can’t go anywhere without me.”

I watch the exchange, letting the illusion settle like fog. Zina acts as though nothing has changed.

“What’s his name?”

The staff files in silently, placing the silver-draped trays of food on the corner table. The scent of caviar and sweet sirniki wafts through the air. Everything is in its place.

Even the lies.

“Shalun,” Zina remarks and reaches into her pocket, withdrawing a large sunflower seed. Shalun cocks its head, then snatches the seed deftly between its sharp black beak before settling.

Valentina blinks, but her eyes are merely curious, not judgmental. Good. The last thing I need is a quarrel.

Shalun’s wings shift, as if acknowledging the tension in the air.

No one comments on the bindings, but Zina’s lips curl into a mischievous smile as she approaches, eyes flickering with dark humor. “Roman has told me of your condition.”

“Condition?” Valentina lifts a brow, now suspicious.

“The car crash. Rest assured, we will all do everything in our power to help. But perhaps it’s for the best you do not remember me, Milaya. After all…” She whispers something in Russian, light but teasing. I catch the words: “Ya demon, kotorogo on vyzval iz ada. Teper on zastrial so mnoy — postoyannyy poltergeist.”

“Does she come with subtitles?” Valentina wonders, and I shake my head with a low chuckle.

I translate for her, “Zina just informed you she is the demon I lamentably summoned from hell. And I am stuck with her. Now, now, Zina, let us not scar my wife beyond repair.”

Zina winks, putting Valentina at ease more. “I know where the bodies are buried.”

There’s a cold edge behind the words—something she never lets slip to outsiders. A quiet warning. And a promise.

Not that Valentina needs to know where the bodies are buried.

She sets a steaming cup of tea beside Valentina, the scent a strange mix of chamomile and something darker, like grave moss. “This will calm restless spirits,” she says with a faint smirk.

I catch Valentina’s hesitant gaze and offer a slow, reassuring smile. The game has begun.

7

“It’s time for a bath.”

VALENTINA

Idon’t know what to make of this yet. Any of it.

This eccentric woman and her crow are diverting me from how Roman hasn’t unlocked my shackles. And the mouth-watering smell of my food.

I want to trust the woman before me. Like Mary Poppins. Well, if Mary Poppins were Russian and had a crow instead of a talking umbrella parrot. Wait, that’s a memory, right?

She’s all crisp lines and unflappable posture, her gray-blonde hair swept into a long braid. The crow blinks at me, clicking its beak like it’s judging me. Probably is. Hell, if I were a crow, I’d judge me too.

Zina—the house matron, Roman said—pats the crow with two fingers. Zina’s eyes still haven’t left mine. Her deadpan is perfect.

A laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it. “So, if I ever have a corpse to hide, I assume you’re the one I should call?”

She cocks her head, smile curving like a blade, and turns toRoman, eyes gleaming. “Ona mne ochen’ nravitsya, Roman. Horoshiy vybor.”

I really wish she came with subtitles.