“That’s enough,” Papa said.
Ant stopped moving, turned to look back.
“Now I want you to jump.”
Ant hesitated.
“Papa,” I said. “The ice’ll break.”
He didn’t look at me. Only stared out at Ant. “Jump,” he said louder.
Ant jumped.
The ice cracked. For one second, Ant stood there, unmoving.
Then it snapped and he fell into the frigid water.
“Papa,” I said.
Ant panicked. He splashed, gasping for breath. That water was nearly frozen and must’ve felt horrible soaking through his clothes. He scrambled for a grip but his fingers kept slipping. He grunted, sputtered water, threw his hands out. He fought to get control but the ice was too slick, and he kept dunking back under, frothing and foaming.
Papa didn’t move, only watched.
“Papa!” I ran down to the lake edge. “We have to help him.”
“Don’t move.” Papa’s voice felt like a kick to my throat.
“Papa,” I said, tears rolling down my cheeks.
Ant shouted something. He flailed, trying to get onto the ice. Papa taught us how to do it right, but I couldn’t remember anymore. Something about keeping calm, shimmying out flat on your belly, spreading out your weight.
Ant wasn’t calm. He was flipping out. He splashed and kicked and slammed his hands against the snowy, slick lip of the hole and tried to get out, but couldn’t.
“Please,” I moaned. “Papa, we have to help him.”
“If he can’t survive this, he can’t survive what’s coming next.” Papa’s jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed. He didn’t move. The pipe smoldered between his teeth.
Ant screamed again. I couldn’t make out what he said. I stepped toward the ice, ready to run after him. Papa could go to hell. I’d let him whip me bloody, I didn’t care, so long as my big brother came out of that lake alive.
But Papa grabbed me and held me back.
I struggled and fought. I screamed for my brother, louder and louder.
Ant flailed less. He tried to slip out, like he remembered how do it finally. But he was exhausted, and he kept getting half way before he slipped or the ice broke again. His lips were blue, his face so white and scared.
Papa’s hands were iron.
“Come on, boy,” he whispered. “Get out of there, Anthony.”
That was the last time I ever heard my father say my brother’s name.
Ant tried. He got half way, his chest out, his arms spread, but the ice broke again. He plunged down and I groaned as if stabbed in the guts. Hot tears flooded my cheeks. I screamed and struggled but Papa wouldn’t let me go.
I wanted to die with my brother.
Ant came up only one more time. He reached for the lip, desperate. Almost clawed his way out. That lasted another few minutes, but he couldn’t get a grip, and he was slowing. It must’ve been so cold, so freaking cold.
Then he sank down, and the day was quiet.
Except for my screaming.
Papa stayed there holding me back for a long time until I puked from all the yelling and sobbing, and then he carried me back into the cabin.
We never talked about Anthony again after that.
31
Cassie
I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe.
The monstrosity. The horror.
Roman stared at his hands, his face twisted with emotion three decades old.
“He brought me back to that cabin the next year. We did the same sort of training, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore. When spring came, he walked me out on the ice, and when he told me to jump, I jumped. The water was so cold and all my breath rushed out of me. I thought about slipping under to be with Ant, just to spite my father. He could lose both of his boys. He’d deserve it. But I knew Ant wouldn’t want that for me, so I did what my father wanted, and I survived.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out again.
“I’m so sorry.” I touched his leg, leaned my lips against his shoulder. Words weren’t enough.
“I hate my father. I’ve always hated my father. But I was supposed to be the one to kill him, and Oisin took that from me. Now I’m going to kill Oisin for his crime, and everyone in this world will know that I’m made of.” He looked at me, cold and hot all at once. “Ice and death.”
I kissed his lips. He kissed me back with a shocking passion, his fingers tugging at my hair. His forehead leaned against mine and he held me there, his hand curled against the nape of my neck.
“You never should’ve gone through that. I can’t imagine what kind of father could watch his son drown.”
“Now you know why I am the way I am.”
“I’m so sorry. God, Roman, I’m so sorry. You were just little boys.”
“He wanted us to be strong. The life of an Oligarch isn’t easy. In some ways, he was right to prepare us the way he did—but he was wrong to let Anthony die. I think he knew it too. He was never the same after that. I think it gnawed at him, ate at him, and he wasted away to a ghost of himself in his later years. And still, I hate him so much, and I wish my brother was alive.”