Page 90 of A War Apart

I frowned, confused. “I made my vow to you, your majesty. If I could, of course I would fight for you. But I doubt I could learn to fight again with one hand. Not in time to be of any use.”

Borislav pushed open the smithy door. A wave of heat and the smell of coal greeted us.

“Your majesty!” The blacksmith wiped his sooty hands on his apron and picked up a package. “I have it here.”

“Ah, thank you.” The tsar took the package and handed it to me. “You may not be able to fight again with one hand, but what about with two?”

I set the package on the blacksmith’s bench and peeled back the paper. I stared at it, trying to process what I was seeing.

Before me on the bench was an iron hand.

“Your majesty, it’s—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. There were no words.

“It’s a work of art,” the tsar said, beaming. “Try it on!”

I fitted it to my wrist, fumbling with the straps. After a moment, the blacksmith reached over and showed me how to buckle it onto my arm.

“His majesty designed it,” the blacksmith said, “and I worked with the saddlemaker in town to put it all together. You can adjust the gears here to move the fingers.” He opened and closed the fingers, then had me try.

The tsar smiled. “You’ll be able to hold a sword and a pen again. And while it might take some time before you’re ready to be on the field again, I’d like you to be one of my commanders, Han.”

The offer struck me dumb.

“I have an opening for a captain, and you have an eye for strategy, as well as a natural bent for leadership. The men trust you, and so do I. After recent events, we need someone we can trust.Ineed someone I can trust.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

“I—yes, of course!” I placed my hand—my new, iron hand—over my heart. “Your majesty, I told you before, I am your man to the end. I would be honored to command your soldiers.”

“Good.” The tsar nodded at me. “I believe you have some work to do. Go to the training rings and get yourself reacquainted with a sword. I’ll see you at the meeting with the commanders after supper.” He turned to the blacksmith and shook the man’s hand, unbothered by the grime. “And thank you for such excellent work. You are a blessing to our war efforts.”

I ran a finger over my new hand as Borislav left. What would Mila think of this?

It could be months before I would have the opportunity to show her. If we both lived long enough for her to see it. The resentment in my chest blazed up again, and I gritted my teeth. At least now, if—when—she returned, I could protect her. I could keep her safe, rather than allowing her to fight a war I couldn’t.

Once she was home, I could make sure she’d never be in danger again.

Chapter thirty-one

Surrender

Mila

“Your roll.” Izolda pushed the dice across the table. We were alone in the inn, our food long since finished, playing our third game. I was grateful for the distraction from my incessant fears about the war. Alexey hadn’t written—not that I expected him to—and we’d had no news about their intended ambush of Borislav’s troops. I prayed my message had gotten through in time. And, selfishly, I prayed Alexey was unhurt.

I shook the dice and tossed them on the table. Pushing my worries to the back of my mind, I tallied up the dots and grinned at Izolda. “I win.”

She squinted at me. “I think you cheat.”

“You’re just jealous that I’m better than you.” I gathered up the dice. “Play again?”

The door to the inn opened before she could answer. I glanced over to see Alexey stride in, and my heart leapt. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, like he’d been riding all day. When he saw us, he gave a half-smile, less cocky than usual.

“I’ve been blessed with an omen from Otets,” he said as he approached. “The sun and the moon together, sent to bring me good favor.”

Izolda grinned. “Flirt. Good news from the war effort?”

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