Page 67 of A War Apart

We crept quietly down the stairs, alert for any noise or movement. The innkeeper wasn’t in the main room. Lada stopped and peered through the door into the kitchen. “Not there,” she whispered.

“What if he left?” Yakov whispered back.

“We’ll catch up to him.”

Outside, a light shone through the open door to the stables. As we entered, I saw the innkeeper saddling his horse.

“Oh!” He started when he saw us. “I hope I didn’t disturb you. I received word from my daughter that I’m needed at the birth. I’ll be back soon.”

“Prophet’s balls,” Yakov swore. “Drop the act.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

I stepped forward, taking off my hat to reveal the scar on my brow. “We know you recognized us, sir. We mean you no harm. We’re on a mission for the tsar—the true tsar, Borislav. All we ask is that you let us go on our way and tell no one you saw us.”

He straightened himself up to his full height. “I am no traitor, nor will I cover for traitors. Borislav is no tsar of mine.”

“We mean you no harm,” I said again, stepping toward him. I had to solve this, had to stop him before someone got hurt. Got killed. “This doesn’t have to come to a fight.”

“Han…” Lada’s voice was low, full of warning.

The man drew a dagger from his belt. “Stay back, traitor!” Keeping us in view, he scrambled onto his horse.

We stood between him and the door. “We can’t let you leave,” Lada said.

Anger and contempt filled his face. “I’ll run you down.”

We stood facing each other for an endless moment. Then the innkeeper kicked his horse.

“Don’t breathe!” Lada shouted as she threw the clay vial at him.

It burst beneath the horse’s hooves, letting out a cloud of smoke that filled the stables. The innkeeper let out a strangled cough which cut off suddenly. Lada grabbed me and Yakov by the arms and dragged us backward, out into fresh air.

Yakov gasped for breath. “What was that?”

“A strangler potion. Efficient and deadly—to humans, at least. Our horses will be fine. I had some things on hand in case we ran into trouble.”

I looked back at the stable, my eyes wide with horror. “He’s dead?”

“If he’s not yet, he will be in a moment.” She shuddered. “Let’s go back inside. It’ll take a while for the smoke to clear out. We might as well stay warm while we wait.”

She and Yakov walked back toward the inn, but I stared at the stables. I’d killed men before, in battle. This was different. The innkeeper’s daughter would be back, probably in the morning, ready to tell him about his newest grandchild. What would she think when she found him dead?

“Han?” Yakov’s voice broke through my dark thoughts.

I turned, clearing the emotion from my face. “I thought you were going inside.”

“She had to do it. He would have gotten us killed.”

“I know.” He was right. We hadn’t had a choice. The tsar was depending on us. “He was a father. A grandfather.”

“Everyone we face has someone who cares about them. It’s war,” Yakov said. “Death happens.”

“I know,” I said again. But where did we draw the line? Murdering old men in their homes? Children in their cradles? Selling our own to the highest bidder? This war was fracturing my soul. I turned back to the inn. “But I don’t have to like it.”

Chapter twenty-four

Training

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