The Forgotten King

"Be fast, zhena," My husband says as he waves me over. I hurry in the dark, trying not to jostle our baby awake as I hold the precious bundle of joy tight against my chest. The penalty for noise is death, and even the sound of my heart hammering against my chest seems too loud.

Just another few moments until we're free.

Behind us, the hateful mansion's soaring stone towers rise in the distance.

Hard and unfeeling like their owner's heart, they are meant to convey beauty and elegance. But in the darkness lit by starlight, all I see are the horns of the devil looming over us.

A light blinks to life, and I try not to panic as its dim, searching eye sweeps across the grounds.

And then I hear it.

Barking in the distance. A man shouts in Russian.

My husband turns suddenly in the direction of the noise. My throat closes like a vise, and I draw in a deep measure of harsh, cold air as the bottom drops out of my stomach.

They're getting closer.

The barking comes closer, and I swear I can hear the sound of boots crunching against the roots and undergrowth.

My eyes lock with my husband's in the dark. He looks at me and then at our baby. His eyes shimmer with the ghost of tears. The impossible choice refuses to take shape in his head, and I know I must be the one to do the unthinkable.

Wordlessly, I hand our baby to him, knowing he will protect my little angel. But as he accepts our child, my fingers desperately close around the edges of the blanket. I don't want to let go. But what choice do I have? Suddenly, I want to cry out.

Just one more second. One more touch. One final "Mama loves you."

"You must live," I whisper, "One of us must."

"Aria ..."

I cut him off. "Promise me!"

He's motionless as realization sinks in. Then, with the grim acceptance that seems almost second nature to his people, he nods solemnly. "I promise."

"I love you," I whisper the words as if they're still a secret. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

I stare into his eyes one last time and see his pain as he stares back. I don't want to leave him. I don't want to face what is coming for us. But I have no other choice.

"I love you," he says, then kisses me.

I hold him close, memorizing his warmth and the feeling of his body pressed tightly against mine. I want to stay in that kiss forever, but cruel reality denies me this final comfort.

We're out of time.

I tear myself away from him, leaving a gap between us that will never close again. Slowly, even as my soul shrieks at me, I force myself to do the one thing that will guarantee his life, and by extension, our child's.

I run.

Dark outlines of tree trunks rise like gravestones in the dim light as tears freeze on my cheek.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out behind me, followed by jeering laughter. A sledgehammer of pain slams into my back as I trip and fall over a twisted tree root.

Another gunshot rings out. My vision starts turning black as I fall to the cold, unfeeling ground.

"No... no. My baby...no..."

Pain overtakes my body, and I close my eyes, taking my last breath as my mind fills with endless images of precious moments that I will never know.

First steps. First words. The first tears from a scraped knee. The kisses to make it all better. Bedtime stories. The first day of school. One missed graduation after another. The first fight between a teenager and a mother. The image of a wedding—never realized.

Every moment stolen from me forever.

"My...baby...I'm so sorry."