Page 32 of A War Apart

“Otets judges rightly. He’s granted me the opportunity I sought. I spent the following years traveling from country to country, trying to raise support to return to Inzhria as word of my brother’s misrule spread. No one would join me, and at last I realized that I would have to return without allies. As the true Heir of the Sanctioned, I had to trust that Otets would guide me, and so here I am, ready to take my rightful place. The people willrally to me; you yourself are proof of that. With your help, the help of my people, together we’ll take what I am owed.”

“Otets willing.” I touched my forehead in a gesture of reverence.

“Otets willing.” He set down his drink, still full. “And with that in mind, Ilya’s wife, my cousin Heli, will prepare you for your time at court. Her intentions are good, so I’ll ask you to forgive her aggressive exterior. She’s merely trying to protect me.” He smiled wryly, as one would at the mention of an overprotective sibling. “She’ll teach you your role and anything you’ll need to know in the capital.”

The tsar stood and walked across the room, taking something from a small basket on the desk. He returned with a glass bottle and a small leather pouch. “You need two things from me. First,” he held up the bottle, “this is for emergencies. I pray you have no need to use it, but I would be remiss not to send it with you.” He looked earnestly into my eyes. “You must not allow yourself to be captured. I cannot over-represent the importance of this. Youmust notallow yourself to be captured. My brother will torture you and make you reveal all you know about me and my cause. This is a matter of life and death, not just for you, but for the entire tsardom.”

I was glad I hadn’t eaten much at dinner as my stomach did flips.

“It will cause instantaneous, painless death. If you believe someone has discovered you, you must find a way to get them to consume it. And if you are captured…”

“I’m to drink it myself.” I swallowed nervously. I was willing to take the risk of going to court, but if Han found out the tsar had asked me to kill myself rather than risk capture, he would do anything to stop me. He’d probably lock me in the house until the war was over, with Anna and Yakov as jailers. “I understand.”

“Only use it if there are no other options, but keep it with you at all times. You may wish to sew it into your clothing to keep it hidden.”

I took the bottle and placed it in my apron pocket. The tsar picked up a long white staff from behind his chair and opened the leather pouch. He took out several long black hairs.

“Second,” he said, “there is the matter of your appearance.”

“My appearance?” I looked down at my clothes, and my hand went to my headscarf. Surely a change in wardrobe would be addressed by the baroness or someone less important. The tsar himself didn’t need to concern himself with such trivial matters.

“While unlikely, we wouldn’t want you to be recognized at court. Sofia Stepanova, your new identity, is from Tsebol. The baroness will ensure you can answer for your background—that is, Sofia’s background—but you must have Sofia’s appearance as well as her knowledge.” He wrapped the hairs around the head of his staff. “You should remain seated. The effect can be slightly disconcerting, I’m told.”

“Is…” My voice cracked. I swallowed and began again. “Is Sofia Stepanova a real woman?”

“She was. She died in the recent outbreak of Moon Fever.” At my look of distress, he waved a hand. “Fear not. She was a private woman, with few connections. Taking her identity will harm no one and help many."

I bit my lip to quell the nerves and nodded. The tsar touched the staff to my forehead. A tingling sensation ran through my body, and I doubled over with nausea. My vision blackened.

After a moment, my eyes cleared, and the tingling stopped. The tsar stood before me, a cup in his hand. “Apologies. I should have given you more time to prepare. Drink this; it will help.”

I took a large drink. It was medovukha, and the taste of honey and the burn of alcohol in my throat washed away the lingeringnausea. Once I regained my bearings, the tsar handed me a small silver mirror.

I stared at the stranger looking back at me from inside the glass. Long eyelashes framed teardrop-shaped eyes, and my skin had darkened several shades. I nervously licked my new, full lips and ran a hand over my cheek.

How had the tsar done this? I knew he had magic—as descendants of Otets, all the Sanctioned had incredible powers—but I’d never imagined something like this.

What was Han going to say?

Most importantly… “Is this permanent?”

“In a sense.” The tsar removed the hairs from the staff and placed them back in their pouch. “I can undo it, easily, upon your return. And of course, my death would undo any of my active spells, this included. But it requires no maintenance, so it is permanent until I remove the spell or I die.”

I bit my lip. The old habit felt strange in my new mouth. “How…?”

“How is it done?” He gave me a crooked smile. “That’s a question for the philosophers, Mila Dmitrievna. The simplest explanation is that by the powers of Otets’ Blood, which flows in my veins, I can sense the essence of something, what makes it what it is. I use my conduit,” he gestured with the staff, “to grasp that essence and manipulate it. When I touched you with my staff, I transferred that essence, drawn from Sofia’s hairs, onto you.”

“Oh.” That explained precisely nothing, but it wasn’t my place to question the tsar. I’d been too presumptuous already.

“You’ll be eager to spend your final night with your husband, I’m sure. I’ll have supper brought to your room this evening. I won’t see you again until your return, so I wish you success. Go with Otets, and return safely and soon.”

My head was still reeling as I bowed. “I will strive to do you honor.”

***

Han

Mila had been gone for hours. At first, I had busied myself reading, trying not to dwell on our argument, but as the afternoon lengthened, I grew anxious. She couldn’t have been with the tsar all afternoon.

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