Page 56 of A War Apart

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I shivered, wrapping my warm shuba tighter around me. Why the tsar thought we needed to be out so early, I didn’t know. Not that I had difficulty waking, but a hot breakfast would have been nice.

But if we’d waited, we would have missed seeing the sun rise over our chosen battlefield. Yakovlevich had been right; we would have the sun at our backs, putting Miroslav’s army with the disadvantage of fighting with the sun in their eyes. I scanned the region. The hills wouldn’t be the most convenient place to camp, steep as they were, but the field they overlooked would be ideal for battle.

The tsar, sitting atop his horse, came up next to me. “What are your thoughts, Han?”

“It will serve, your majesty.” I frowned. “Though I wish it wasn’t quite so open.”

Fyodor Yakovlevich, on my other side, nodded. “A wall to the south, or at least another hill or two, would keep us from being flanked without leaving us trapped.”

“I agree.” Borislav looked to his cousin. “Radomir?”

The prince dismounted and handed his horse’s reins to a guard. From inside his fur coat, he took his wand. “Stone or ice?”

“Ice, I think. No need to upset the local geography more than we have to.” The tsar dismounted as well, long white staff in hand.

The tsar raised his staff. “You might want to stay back.”

Radomir raised his wand. The hairs on my arms stood on end as I heard a faint crackling sound, like tiny icicles breaking. I looked over at Fyodor, but he was unperturbed. The tsar and the prince stared intently at a point on the field below us, and I followed their gaze as the crackling grew.

A wall of ice rose out of the snow. Thin at the foot of the hills, it thickened as it stretched along the edge of the field. As it grew, so did the sound of cracking ice. The wall was nearly ten feet tall before the tsar shouted over the now-thunderous cracking, “That’s enough!”

Silence fell. My ears ringing, I stared at the tsar as he surveyed their handiwork.

I’d known the Sanctioned were descended from Otets, but they were human. Like me, I’d always thought. Even the small healing spell I’d seen Prince Radomir do to his horse had been nothing compared to this. But the powers the two Sanctioned had just shown—those were godlike. Beyond anything I’d ever expected.

“That should be sufficient, don’t you think?” Borislav asked his cousin. The prince had already walked away with Fyodor Yakovlevich, gazing down at the field in contemplation. The tsar turned to me instead. “I believe that should suit what you had in mind.”

I blinked, staring open-mouthed at the newly formed wall of ice. “Yes. I—Yes. Your majesty, I had no idea you were capable of this.”

The tsar smiled slightly. “Yes, I suppose it can be a little overwhelming if you’ve never seen it done.”

I looked at our companions, all men from Radomir’s personal guard. They scanned the horizon for threats, no sign of shock or awe at the scene they’d witnessed. Even my horse, borrowed from the prince’s stables, hadn’t spooked at the sound. Perhaps such wonders were commonplace when one worked for a Sanctioned. “It’s unbelievable, your majesty. Truly, with the two of you, I don’t see how we can lose.”

His smile disappeared. “That might be true, were we able to use our Gifts in battle. As it is, we can only prepare the field.”

“As it should be.” Radomir turned from his observation to join the discussion. “The Prophet’s mandates were clear. The Gifts of the Blood should never be used against the unSanctioned, even in battle.”

“Even so,” I said, “this is incredible. With the nature of the terrain and your Gifts to enhance it, we have a strong advantage.” I wasn’t foolish enough to assume that meant we’d win, but with two of Inzhria’s most powerful Sanctioned on our side, I had hope.

The tsar nodded, looking out over the field again. “I hope so, Han. I hope so.”

Chapter twenty

Complications

Mila

“Fuck,” I muttered as I pricked my finger. I threw the needle and fabric down and sucked at the tiny wound. I hadn’t bled on the fabric, thank Otets. Princess Alisa was sure to notice if I did. I reached for the needle again, but it had fallen when I threw down my fabric. I knelt down, searching the floor. There—a slight sparkle next to the table leg. Object in hand, I stood, only to smack my head on the table.

“Witness, Prophet, and Steward,” I swore, rubbing the spot I’d hit. The day kept getting worse and worse.

It wasn’t as though I had any pressing work. My only orders were from Lady Heli and Princess Alisa, and they were leaving with the court in the morning. I tucked the needle safely into its pouch and stretched. Maybe getting out of the room would improve my mood.

Bundled up in my fur-lined overcoat, I headed outside with no particular destination in mind. Snow crunched beneath my feet. It was a bad time of year for travel, let alone for battle. A snowstorm could strand the whole army on the road. Then again, the good season was short. The winter snows lasted nearly half the year, and the spring and fall rains could be as bad as the snow, if not worse.

If Miroslav hoped to ambush his brother’s army with this sudden attack, he was mistaken. Otets willing, Lady Heli had gotten word to Tsar Borislav, and he was preparing a defense even as Miroslav readied to leave.

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