🔆🌙 Chapter 40 🔆🌙

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*takes a long drag of a cigarette* welp.

I swear I'm not a pathological liar, but reading my old updates and authors' notes, I sure as hell sound like one.

So, it's been a (very) long time. 409 days, but not like anyone's counting. I may have posted a few authors' notes promising both a new chapter and that I would reply to your comments and then didn't, may have played with your emotions and given y'all trust issues, but alas.

I have returned from my sabbatical (?) (hibernation? mysterious disappearance?) with a brand new chapter and enough delusions to believe I can actually finish this behemoth of a story (would you believe it if I told you we're not even to the first super big plot twist yet? but we're very, very close) as originally planned. I feel like Victor Frankestein, both two drop-outs plagued by nightmares of our creations born from hubris.

Anyways, enjoy, y'all.

(story resumes roughly the same time as the last chapter) (lights, camera, action)

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"You're biting your nails again. Stop it."

"Sorry."

I looked down to my fingernails, rough and chewed to the quick, then sighed and threw my head back with dramatic effect. "I can't help it. I'm worried. I haven't seen him in nearly two weeks."

Things with Aleksander had been taking a turn recently, and whether it was for better or worse remained to be seen. On one hand -and because he only had use of one hand the last time I had seen him- I was permitted nearly unobstructed access to his office, to assist with all the joys that paperwork and bureaucracy had to offer.

However, Aleksander was never there. Or in his rooms, or anywhere else in the Grand Palace. I was starting to wonder if he had taken up sleeping in the stables just to avoid the possibility of seeing me. Not that I cared whether he did or not. It was none of my business, where or with whom he slept. I had no logical reason to care.

Still, the idea that -after recent events between us- Aleksander was purposefully avoiding me, stung me more than I was willing to admit.

Genya's spoon clinked as she delicately placed it on her tea saucer. "Yes, so you've said. A lot."

Also among the circle, Tima snorted into his cup, and I made a point of ignoring him, focusing instead on Genya's remark. "What do you mean? I haven't hardly mentioned-" The words died on my lips at the mildly annoyed-yet-sympathetic look on her face, and I muttered another insincere apology, taking a long sip of my tea and wishing desperately it was kvas. Inviting Genya and Tima for biweekly afternoon tea was something I had started recently and looked forward to, even if sometimes the red-headed interrupters chose to spend our shared time heckling me.

Conversation lulled, peaceful silence that was broken only by the tinkling of silverware against china and the ticking of the impressive grandfather clock over the mantel piece, until I could no longer fight the urge to continue lamenting. "I just want to know why the General is ignoring me. I even asked Ivan. He just looked at me like I had three heads. Maybe I was just imagining a change between us."

Tima leaned forward in his chair, reaching out and gently patting my knee, heartbreaking concern writ on his face and puppy-dog eyes. "Oh, Li, I'm so sorry you had to find out like this. The General actually died tragically five years ago. It's all been your imagination."

At my raised eyebrows, he pursed his lips and nodded sadly. "We didn't know how to tell you."

I had no time to react in earnest before a scowling Genya smacked Tima on the shoulder, loud enough to produce a very satisfying thwack as he fell back in his chair, giggling, tawny curls falling into his eyes. "Timofey! Don't say things like that, you moron!"

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