"Pooka, we're going Paris!" The dog barked in agreement and wriggled in Anya's arms, mirroring his master's excitement.
"The dog stays," Dimitri said, casting a glance at her over his shoulder. He and his fat friend were leading Anya back across the ballroom toward the main staircase. Anya immediately stopped, planting her feet into a pool of topaz splashed across the floor by the dying sun outside of the windows. She put Pooka down and put her hands on her hips. It was a gesture that was quickly becoming habit when dealing with Dimitri.
"What are you talking about? The dog goes."
Dimitri didn't even bother to slow his pace or turn around. "No, the dog does not go."
In an instant, Anya went from mildly irritated to flushed with anger. People had been turning their backs on her for as long as she could remember, and she would be damned if she let it happen even one more day. All that was over. Better to nip Dimitri's attitude in the bud here and now.
"Hey," she said as she rushed forward, grabbing a handful of the faded green fabric of his shirt sleeve. He whipped around to face her. His expression suggested shock that she had the audacity to touch him when she had so pointedly informed him that he was never to do the same to her. Frowning at her own logic, she let him go and stepped back.
She took a breath to calm herself. This was going to be a long evening if she couldn't get a grip. "I say the dog goes."
"Well, I say he doesn't, and just in case you've already forgotten, I run this show." Dimitri pulled an imperious face and Anya became exasperated again despite her personal to remain calm and logical.
She couldn't help it. She stomped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring Vladimir's chuckling. "And why not, exactly? Are you jealous? Your mommy never gave you one, so now you're taking it out on me?"
Vladimir, apparently enjoying the exchange and loathed to see it end, halfheartedly said to Dimitri, "It's just a small dog. Why not let her bring him along? We can feed him scraps."
Dimitri threw him a look that bordered on filthy. "I'm allergic to dogs."
Vladimir pouted playfully and nudged him in the side but Dimitri only grimaced and waved him away. Sighing, he looked back at Anya and groused, "You're not going to let this go until I give in, are you?"
Anya smirked. "Nope."
"Fine. Bring the stupid dog. But watch him, alright? I'd better not find him chewing up my shoes. That dog doesn't like me."
Anya's grin was downright sugary with her small victory. "He's not the only one, believe me."
Dimitri grunted in response and the trio continued their trek up the staircase and into the hall from which Dimitri and Vladimir had emerged. Anya trailed a bit behind, examining the different flowers in the wallpaper and the people encased in frames even taller than Dimitri was. Pooka darted in and out of nearby shadows, always returning to nip at Anya's ankles, to remind her he was there and that she wasn't alone.
But that sickening, hollow feeling, the one that kept her up at night and brought her to this place, let her know that for now, alone was what she was going to be.
Dimitri and Vladimir spoke only to each other in hushed tones. Every now and again Anya would catch the flicking of their eyes in her direction in the light from the oil lamp Vladimir had picked up from a table outside of the ballroom. It was maddening. Vladimir was...alright, she supposed. He was nice enough and didn't make her feel like socking him in the nose whenever he opened his mouth like Dimitri did. Lanky, smooth-talking Dimitri, however, reminded her of childhood toothaches and lice - irritating, infuriating, but something you had to deal with until you could get what you needed to get rid of them.
Since Anya wasn't in a position to be picky, she'd have to put up with Dimitri's mouth until he got her to Paris. After that, who knew? Maybe she would just give them the slip and take off. She could find a job somewhere. She could learn French. She was capable and smart, and the next time Dimitri tried to suggest otherwise with his condescending tone, she just might have to educate him with her fist. His crooked nose already looked like he'd been popped one too many times, probably for the same reason. Once more wouldn't make much difference.
Tired of being ignored, Anya cleared her throat. "Are we walking out of town here, or what? We've been headed this way forever. Where are we going?"
Dimitri sighed - again - and told her, "To our room, Your Grace. We need to get some sleep before we head out in the morning."
"The morning?" Anya repeated, frowning hard. What were they waiting for? "I thought we were leaving now."
"The train depot is closed now. You're not going anywhere tonight, unless you'd like to walk to Paris on your own. Which you're more than welcome to do, by the way."
They finally stopped in front of one of the hundreds of doors that lined both sides of the hall, all of them gilded and a little moldy. This one made a sticky smacking sound when Dimitri opened it and let Vladimir waddle past him inside.
Anya was about to follow suit when Dimitri stopped her and leaned on the door frame. He blinked at her from beneath the hair that she noticed had fallen into his eyes again before he brushed it aside with an impatient hand. He really should cut it instead of batting at it all the time, Anya thought.
When he didn't speak, she widened her eyes at him. "What?"
"You don't have to stay in here with us if you don't want," he said, sounding uneasy, his eyes darting around the space surrounding Anya's head. "You don't know us, like you stated before, and I don't want to make you...uncomfortable. We can give you your own room, I mean. If you like."
Anya would have laughed in his face if he hadn't seemed so sincere. The small pocket knife she kept in her coat gave her enough confidence to say, "As long I don't have to sleep in your bed to get a train ticket, we're fine."
Dimitri laughed. It was genuine and clear, and the way his face lit up startled Anya somewhat. He looked like a totally different person. A nice person.
His smile faded quickly under Anya's stare, and after a moment he stepped aside to let she and Pooka in before he closed the door behind them.
A fire was roaring and the room was uncomfortably warm, but Anya wasn't about to take off her coat. This room was almost identical to the one with the silver platter, except it didn't have as many windows and didn't reek so much of dust. Vladimir left them with a nod to Dimitri and a kiss for the back of Anya's hand before he ambled off to his bed beyond the columns that divided the room in half.
"Anya."
Anya turned away from fingering the curves of the fireplace, the biggest she had ever seen.
"There's...ah, some food still here if you want some. It's not much, but it'll get you by until morning."
Her eyes found the half-eaten plate of pastry on the table off the Dimitri's side. She tried to smile.
"Um...I'm okay. Thanks, though."
"Suit yourself," Dimitri replied, shrugging a little. "You can take the chaise lounge - "
"The what?" Anya asked, confused. She looked around the room for the fifth time. The only thing she saw was a long blue couch.
"The couch...over there by the fire," Dimitri said with a grimace, rubbing his forehead. "Jesus."
"Oh." Anya was far too worked up now over the prospect of leaving the country to take offense, so she strode over to what she'd learned was the chaise and sat stiffly in the middle, close to the edge.
For a long time, the only sound between the two of them was the crackling of the fire and Dimitri's uncomfortable cough.
"Well...it's almost nine now. We'll be leaving around four in the morning, so try to get some rest. We have a very long journey ahead of us."
"I'll be ready," Anya told him, her eyes never leaving the tongues of flame warring with each other behind the fire screen.
He didn't say anything further, and she felt more than heard him disappear somewhere behind her.
She beckoned Pooka with a soft whistle and he hopped up onto her lap, settling in with a yawn. He was asleep almost immediately.
Any other time, Anya might have been inclined to join him, but not tonight. The buzzing of her nerves and the tightness of every muscle would keep the specter of sleep away for now, and that was just fine. She didn't want to risk waking to find all of this a dream, even if a few of the characters in it - one in particular - were miniature nightmares.