Episode 29

The air in the opulent dressing room still hummed with the spectral echo of Anya’s final rehearsal. Anya, safe now, sat by the tall, arched window, her gaze distant, fixed on the snow-laden branches of the birch trees outside. The velvet of her robe, a shade of deep sapphire, did little to warm the chill that had settled within her. Dmitri, his usual boisterous energy subdued, watched her from the doorway, a familiar ache of worry tightening his chest. Nickola, ever the steady presence, poured them both small glasses of kvass, the tart scent doing little to cut through the lingering tension.

“She’s sleeping more now,” Dmitri murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “The doctor said it’s normal. Trauma, he called it.”

Nickola nodded, his gaze meeting Dmitri’s over the rim of his glass. “She’ll heal, Dmitri. She’s Anya. She’s always been stronger than any of us give her credit for.”