Prologue

"There is no betrayal without deceit."

That's what they told me.

That when you look up and the sky is blue, then it's a 'good' day.

That when the doorway is blocked by a mountain of snow on Monday mornings, then it's a 'bad' day.

For Gilbert, that is absolutely and utterly false.

They said, carelessly and with a smile, that every betrayal begins with a smile, but you have to believe there is still an ounce of goodness in that smile.

That's what they told me.

Well, I don't know.

Maybe Elizaveta knows. At least more than I do. And certainly more than Gilbert.

She always seemed to have that esoteric smile hanging on the crescent of her lips.

It was the type of smile that made Gilbert smile too. The kind that evoked a small voice in his head to run up to her and hold her in his arms, because if he didn't that diaphanous look in her eyes would rise and fly away, and he knew he would regret it if it did.

But maybe it would have been better if he had just let her fly.

They said women needs to be leashed in place, by men stronger than them, by men who hold the golden rope of power and eternity.

And then Elizaveta beat the crap out of them and told them (beaming brightly) to fuck off before she brought out the frying pan.

You see, no one really understood Elizaveta's smile, or why Gilbert had that strange urge to tie himself to her.

But that's probably because no one bothered to waste brain space on them.

Well, I wouldn't know.