29

Only late in the evening Deya left a strange indifference, and was replaced by a sickening fear of realizing that the misfortune had not happened. She and her husbands were in the bedroom, Bery did not let go of his Lanaren from his embrace, sorted through her blond soft hair, endlessly straightened the fur blanket on her shoulders and cursed softly under his breath. Deja sat on his lap, resting her head on the man's shoulder and listening to the rapid beating of his heart. The sound calmed her down. Aznar walked around the room with his arms crossed, and the features of his handsome face were constantly changing: either sharpening, becoming predatory, or returning to their original state. Noticing the look of his wife, Aznar turned away sharply, afraid to frighten her, and went to the window, frowning at the dark night that covered the city.

-Aznar, - growling notes cut through Beria's voice. “You see, we can’t even trust our own people!

"Next week," his brother replied flatly.

-What