Page 57 of A War Apart

A defense, I hoped, that Han would be far from. I said a silent prayer that the tsar wouldn’t expect Han to be on the battlefield. He’d practiced swordplay with Yakov, I knew, but he would never be a skilled fighter without his sword hand. He couldn’t even write well, despite constant practice; he dictated most of his letters to me or to Kyril Kyrilovich. If he fought, he’d never survive.

No, I couldn’t think like that. The tsar wasn’t stupid. He knew where Han’s skills lay, and they weren’t on the battlefield. He’d keep Han away from the fighting.

“Ah, if it isn’t the fair sun Sofia!”

Lost in thought, I hadn’t noticed Alexey Grigorovich walking across the courtyard toward me. He reached me and bowed. “Whose day are you off to brighten today?”

“Good afternoon,” I said tersely. I was in no mood to banter.

“Do clouds darken the sun’s countenance?” He fell into step beside me. “Would that I could remove those clouds.”

“Aren’t you preparing for a battle?” I snapped.

“I was on my way to the stables.” He took my arm and pulled me off the path, stopping under the shade of an evergreen tree. I tensed at the touch, but he let his hand drop. He took a step back, giving me space as I folded my arms across my chest.“I apologize if I’ve offended you, Sofia Stepanova. I meant no disrespect.”

I took a deep breath, uncrossing my arms to shove my hands in my pockets. The man was harmless, if a flirt. “I’m a little on edge,” I said by way of apology.

“Is it because of the battle?”

I nodded, not meeting his eye.

“You won’t be traveling with the court, will you?”

“No, I just…” I scanned my mind for a reason that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. “My father died in the last uprising,” I said finally, looking up at him. “The talk of battle brings back memories, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

I waved a hand, dismissing his concern. “It was a long time ago. I shouldn’t let it bother me.”

“It’s my experience that pain is no respecter of time. But I’ll do my best to end this uprising, so no talk of battle can cloud the sun’s countenance.” He winked.

I rolled my eyes, my lips tugging upward in spite of my sour mood. “Alexey Grigorovich, I believe you have an inflated sense of self-importance.”

He flashed a grin. “If increasing my importance is what it takes to set your mind at ease, I’ll do it gladly.”

I shook my head. The man was shameless, but at least his ridiculous conversation was a distraction from my worries. “I should let you get back to work. I’m keeping you from the baron, and I was going to see Izolda.” Since she would be leaving with the court, I doubted she would have time to spend with me, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out.

“I’ll escort you.” He offered me his arm.

I hesitated. “I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

“Nonsense.” He took my arm and tucked it in his. “Lord Kazimir has enough to think about. He’ll hardly notice my absence. Lord Ilya’s quarters are on my way, besides.”

I let him guide me into the castle. He kept up a steady stream of cheerful conversation as we walked down the servants’ corridor, pointing out doors and telling me about the nobles who lived behind them. He seemed to sense I wasn’t in the mood to talk, because he didn’t pause for any responses beyond the occasional “oh?”

“And here, of course, we have the quarters of Lord Ilya, baron of Tsebol,” he said as we reached the door. “I trust you can find your—ah, here is the moon!”

The door in question had opened to reveal Izolda, her arms full of linens. Catching sight of us, she arched a brow, looking amused. I yanked my arm from Alexey’s, guilty heat suffusing my body, and she smothered a laugh.

“Alexey.” She nodded a greeting. “If I’m the moon, and Fia’s the sun, what does that make you?”

“Blessed by Otets.” He bowed, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “My master awaits, but I hope to see both of you soon.” He strode off down the hallway.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Izolda turned to me, smirking.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She started down the hall. “I’m taking these to the laundry. Come with?”

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