Free Yvgenie by C.J. Cherryh

mousekin?
    Yes, she promised him the way she had promised for her uncle before, when she was l ittle and had tantrums.
    Only this one was not her fault. It was not fair for them to be mad at her, it was not fair for them to have taken Owl away, it was not fair of them to think that what they were thinking had happened between them—
    Even if it was true what they had been doing together, and even if it was true that she had felt dizzy and that he could have killed her. But he wouldn't have, she wanted them all to know that. We didn't—he wouldn't—
    Her uncle said, I believe you, mousekin. He wasn't all bad when he was alive. And what you were doing—
    She refused to hear him. Usually she could not shut uncle out. But this time she could. This time she made him shut up and leave her alone, and told him he would have to come after her and talk out loud, the way her father insisted rea sonable people ought to do with each other, not wish thoughts into each other's heads or meddle in other people's embarrassment.
    Oh, god, mother did that with him, too, when he wasn't dead. And father knows it.
    ***
     
    The storm inside the house was ebbing. The one outside might be, but Ilyana had built a defense like a wall, and shut herself inside it. ‘ I'd better talk to her,'' Sasha said, not sure Pyetr and Eveshka even heard him—Eveshka was sitting on the bench in front of the fire, Pyetr holding her hands tightly in his. But Pyetr, with more spare concentration than a wizard could afford, glanced over his shoulder and said, ‘ God, do. She's scared, she's just scared, Sasha, she had no idea. ’ Whether Pyetr believed that or whether he was saying it to placate Eveshka, the god only knew: Sasha hoped it was the case. And beyond a doubt Pyetr would be out there himself, except he was the only one of them who could reason with Eveshka, the only one Eveshka might listen to, the way she was listening to Pyetr now, Pyetr, trusting them to protect her daughter—
    Which might be Eveshka's distracted urging to him, for all he knew. If it was, her breach of attention was dangerous, and he was going, now, anything to keep the peace.
    So he slipped quickly out the door and soft-footed it down the walk-up and around the corner toward the stable. Ilyana was still standing with her arms about the filly's neck and Ilyana did not wish him to stop. That was a hopeful sign. But he felt —
    Felt exposed to a presence at his back, something—
    —familiarly dangerous. Babi had bristled up into his most fearsome shape, the horses clearly smelled something disturbing, and of a sudden he knew what it was.
    Snake. Vodyanoi.
    He spun about to face the river and said aloud, ‘ Hwiuur, you damnable sneak, go back to sleep! There's nothing here for you. Go away! ’
    The feeling immediately slid away like a serpent into water.
    But another presence slipped up behind him. Ilyana 's magic came around him. He had felt her tantrums, he had stilled her wild panics, but this was not anger, or fear, or with him—it encompassed him, it aimed his wishes at the linger—
    It scared him more than the presence in the river did: he w a nted her to know that on no uncertain terms.
    She stopped at once, tha nk the god. He turned, saw her fa ce and felt as if he had slapped her—
    ‘ No, mouse,'' he called out loudly enough for her to hear acr oss the yard. ’ You're no more mouse—not when you wish like that. But be careful! You don't know everything yet! ’
    '' I know more than I wanted to know!'' she shouted, with tea rs in her voice, and that strength was there again, like a wall excluding him. ‘ My mother was in love with him! Whose daughter am I, anyway? ’
    God. ‘ You're Pyetr's! ’ he shouted back. ‘ You're most undeniably Pyetr's, I swear to you that's so! Chernevog was in no condition to father a child when you began, and there was never any doubt whose you are. ’
    ‘ Could there have been? Why should I believe you? Ev eryone’s lied to me!