Fyodor was Nikolai’s golden birdcage. Keeping him trapped in the emotions he tried so hard to escape. But this cage is pretty. Safe. And he isn’t sure he wants to escape. Not yet, anyway.

He’ll have to wait to kill Fyodor another day.

For now, he’s content to sit on the floor in front of Fyodor’s knees while Fyodor runs his fingers through Nikolai’s silky white hair.

Fyodor smiles. He enjoys braiding Nikolai’s hair for him.