The scowl, however, was completely and utterly Gavril’s.
“Sorry, Mama,” Katarina said quietly, her head still bowed. “We were too loud.”
The woman continued to stare at me, her cool gray eyes assessing every inch of my skin, and I suppressed the urge to shiver under her gaze.
Yet another trait her son had gotten from her. “I’m Sveta Stanislavovna,” I finally stated, stretching out my hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, and thank you for allowing me into your home.”
She glared at my hand and I started to sweat under the light sweater I was wearing, dropping my hand awkwardly to my side.
This woman could melt ice with her stare.
“Maria Afanasyevna.” She took my hand in a light grip.
I felt like I should curtsey or something, but I remained perfectly still as she looked over my shoulder at
