A Bond of Blood by Bella Forrest, now you can read online.
Prologue: Kiev
My parents lay on the bloodstained carpet, their faces shining with sweat, their trembling bodies wrapped in blankets. My mother gripped my right hand, my father my left. Each breathed heavily as they lay with eyes closed.
I broke away as my mother descended into another coughing fit. Reaching for a metal basin, I pulled her upright and held the vessel beneath her mouth in case she vomited. Once she had calmed down, I eased her back again. She looked weaker than ever.
I removed the damp towels covering both of my parents’ foreheads and replaced them with fresh ones from the ice bucket. Had it not been for those towels, the raging fever would have taken them already.
After adding more coal to the fireplace, I left the barn and walked barefoot out into the snow-covered garden, breathing in the sharp late-evening air. Bending down, I picked up a handful of snow from the ground and cleaned my bloody hands. Then I reached for the handkerchief covering my nose and mouth and pulled it away. I rubbed more snow against my face and sighed deeply. The crisp substance helped give me relief from the sickly-sweet stench of the barn.
“Are they going to die?” a soft voice called out from behind me.
I whirled around to see the front door of our cottage open, my younger sister making her way toward me. Her long black hair was wrapped around her neck and her green eyes glistened with tears. She was shivering as she approached me in her thin cotton nightgown.
“Helina!” I shouted. “How did you get out here?”
She ignored my question and continued walking.
“Stop! Don’t come near me. Get back in the house!”
Furious, I fastened the handkerchief back over my mouth and nose and ran toward her.
“I want to see them!” she cried, as I scooped her up in my arms.
I lowered her to the floor as soon as we reached the entrance of the small cottage and locked the door behind us. Still wailing, she banged against the door with her small hands. I stepped away from her and moved to the furthest corner of the room, checking that my handkerchief hadn’t budged from its place. I looked around our sitting room. The furniture consisted of three small oak cabinets and a threadbare chaise longue. The walls were bare and stained with dirt. Four lanterns hung from each corner of the low ceiling, and ragged carpets covered the rough wooden floorboards in the center of the room. Fading embers crackled in the fireplace. I hadn’t stepped into my home for five weeks.
I eyed the key in the door. “How did you get out?” I demanded.
“I want Mama,” she screamed.
She turned to face me, her eyes bloodshot and filled with tears. She moved away from the door and walked toward me, her arms outstretched.
“No. Helina. No. I’ve told you before. Don’t come near me.”
“Please, Kiev. I want to see Papa.”
“Stay away!” I bellowed.
My harsh tone seemed to scare her—or perhaps it was the desperation in my eyes—and she retreated. She curled up on the floor and continued sobbing. But there was only one possible answer, for there were only two keys. One was in my pocket; the other belonged to our brother.
“You stole this from Erik, didn’t you? Erik!” I yelled up the dim staircase.
Old floorboards creaked overhead and Erik appeared at the top of the stairs. His black hair was cropped short, like mine, his eyes chestnut brown, like our father’s.
“Damn fool. Is it so difficult to keep a key away from a child?”
Erik remained quiet as he descended the stairs. He had an ashen expression on his face.
“She didn’t steal it from me, Kiev. I gave it to her.”
My eyes widened with disbelief.
“You allowed her out?”
My younger brother averted his eyes to the ground and nodded. “I was going to pay a visit to our parents too.”
“Christ!” I grabbed a dusty vase from a cabinet and hurled it to the floor. “Have you lost your damn mind? Do you have any idea what I have sacrificed to keep you two safe?”
“I know what you’ve sacrificed,” Erik said grimly. “But I also know that our parents are dying.”