Page 13 of The Fire Beneath the Frost

By the time we pushed open the door to our apartment that night, the hallway lights were flickering again.Third time this week.Vera muttered something about the electrician being a ghost story and kicked off her boots with practiced frustration.I took mine off too, and we left them in the hallway.

Inside, the smell of strong cologne hit us at once.Nina used an awful lot of it, and Vera suspected it was because she never bathed.

Pavel and Nina were halfway to the door, arguing in hushed tones over who’d left the iron plugged in.Nina spotted us and straightened up, flashing a bright smile like nothing had happened.

“Ah, the blanket barons return,” she teased, tossing her scarf over her shoulder.

Pavel gave us a nod, already pulling on his gloves.“We left you a slice of pie.Don’t say we never do anything nice.”

“I’ll sing your praises from the rooftops,” Vera said dryly, stepping aside so they could pass.

“Not too loudly,” Nina added, winking.“We don’t need the neighbors asking for some.”

The four of us shared a chuckle—easy, habitual, surface-deep.We weren’t enemies, but we hadn’t chosen to live with them either.When they were gone, the air shifted slightly.Quieter.Looser.I could breathe differently.

Vera waited for their footsteps to fade down the stairwell, then padded toward the kitchen.

“I’m making tea,” I said, already halfway there.

“I’m joining you.”

She leaned against the counter while I filled the kettle, arms folded, watching me like she was deciding whether to say something.

She didn’t wait long.

“So,” she said, voice casual, “what do you think of Dimitri Morozov?”

I turned, surprised.“You remember his name?”

“I remember most of the boys you drool over.It helps me keep track.”

I snorted, pouring water into the kettle and lighting the stove.“Drool is an overstatement.”

“Sure.And I only married you so you could love all the boys without anyone getting suspicious.”

I grinned.“And so you could keep seeing your adorable Mira.”

She leaned her hip against the counter.“I’m serious, though.He seems...I don’t know.Familiar.”

“Familiar?”

“Like us,” she said pointedly, then softened it with a shrug.“I think he’s one of us.”

I raised an eyebrow.“You picked that up during the Party orientation?”

“Please.I’ve known you since you were a boy, and I can tell when, you know, somebody is like us.”She smirked.“And you’re not exactly subtle when you like someone, Petyr.”

I busied myself grabbing mugs, avoiding her eyes.

“Well?”she prompted.

“He’s...”I shook my head, searching for the right word.“He’s quiet.Watchful.I don’t know what he’s thinking most of the time.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I poured the tea when the kettle shrieked, letting the steam rise between us.“Dimitri’s…” I stopped myself.“I don’t know what I think.”

She didn’t push, just took her mug and followed me into the bedroom.

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