“Everyone endures hard things.” I endure them. There was never any choice because it is hard here and hard there. Hardness everywhere.
“I refuse,” he whispered
“No one can refuse.”
“Is life here so filled with bliss?”
Marya Morevna sank to her knees, her dress spreading out over the threshold like a pool of blood. She pressed her forehead to Koschei’s.
“What about the war?”
“The war is going badly.”
* * *
Ivanushka, this is my house, whatever the papers say.
Yes.
* * *
“My name is Ushanka,” said the woman with the blue hatband, smoothing her crisp brown skirt as she seated herself, “and certain irregularities have come to light which I must ask you to make regular, Comrade Morevna. Answer my questions, and you may go about your afternoon as you please. Stroll by the river, make rolls.”
Marya sat lightly in a threadbare green chair, wishing she were elsewhere, longing to spring away like a deer. But Ivan Nikolayevich had said that if anyone came asking questions, she had to answer; it was not about wanting or not wanting. “All right.”
“I work with your husband; did you know that?”
“No. We do not discuss his work.”
“Ah! What a balm is the conduct of a good citizen. Still, I keep returning to these irregularities.”
“Oh?” Marya did not move any part of her face. She was better at interrogation games than this woman could ever be.
“Well, surely you admit the oddness of a man appearing out of nowhere, after a long absence from duty, and suddenly having a wife where he had none before.” Ushanka’s smile stretched very wide, very frank, as if they were old friends.
Marya willed her fingers not to fidget. She stared straight ahead. “Surely soldiers often meet women in foreign parts.”
“Are you a foreigner, then? Your Russian is excellent.” Her pen scratched against her notepad.
“No, no. I was born here, in Leningrad. Before the Revolution, of course.”
“Of course. Allow me to ask an obvious question, Comrade Morevna. Forgive me for insulting your intelligence, but it is only my job. Are you, in fact, married to Comrade Ivan Nikolayevich Geroyev?”
* * *
Ivanushka, if you break this promise it will be like breaking a very old crystal glass. Nothing will be able to be put right again.
I understand.
* * *
“Come back with me,” insisted Koschei. “Hide inside me, as you did before. I will pile such jewels on your lap. Viy can burn this world, if I have you. Already the Chernosvyat is his. Already my country hoists a silver flag. Come with me. I will take out my death and smash it under a hammer and Viy can have us and in his silver country I will fuck you until the end of the world.”
Marya brushed his nose with hers, two affectionate beasts.
Koschei the Deathless shut his dark eyes. “I can take you anyway, if you say no.”
“I know you can.” She felt his words in the basement of her belly.