47. Final Straw

Anya

As I watch Bastien, his figure restrained yet defiant, a knot of anxiety tightens in my stomach. He’s playing his part perfectly, but the sight of him bound, a pawn in this dangerous charade we’re orchestrating, sends waves of worry coursing through me.

We lead him into the room where my father waits, his presence a suffocating force. My father’s eyes light up with malicious glee as he takes in the sight of Bastien, seemingly defeated and at our mercy.

I force myself to remain composed, to play the part of the dutiful daughter, even as every fiber of my being screams in revolt. “Father,” I begin, my voice steady. “We’ve brought him, as you wanted.”

My father looks at me, almost proud, then he pulls me into an embrace, leaving me startled. Then he pulls back, lets me go, and walks over to Bastien on his knees.

“Well, well, look at the mighty lion, now just a harmless kitten,” my father taunts, his voice a venomous hiss. “I must say, Dmitry, you have outdone yourself. Bringing me m