“Her feet were freezing after having stood in the church nave all morning through Uncle Sviatoslav’s long funeral service. She raised her slippered feet towards the fire, and thankfully sipped from the warming cup of kvass her husband offered her, before passing him back the cup. He drank deeply. He had not answered her question. ‘Will they crown your father?’ she asked quietly. Vladimir set the cup down on the bench between them and hunched over the blaze, his head close to hers. She felt h...is breath on her hair causing her veil to slightly move. ‘Unlikely,’ he muttered into her ear. ‘There is much to be considered.’ She turned her head and held his dark eyes with a quizzical look. His forehead had creased. He was tense. She felt his concern. She saw it on his countenance. ‘I hope they consider soon. I dislike indecision.’ ‘I do not think your likes or dislikes will be considered, my wife,’ Vladimir said as he shifted along the bench slightly.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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