Page 113 of A War Apart

He gave me a curious look, undoubtedly wondering what a young woman wanted with the commander so late at night. I looked a mess, covered in filth from my time in Miroslav’s dungeon. My hair was still uncovered, a single braid down my back, marking me as an unmarried woman.What could an unmarried, grimy woman like this want with the Survivor of Barbezht?I could almost hear him thinking.

I was beyond caring. Han was alive. He was here.

“There’s no need to wait with me. Thank you,” I said, dismissing him.

“Of course.” He made a slight bow and walked off, giving one last questioning glance at me over his shoulder.

I took a deep breath and put my hand to the flap.

Darkness and silence filled the tent. He wasn’t back. I felt my way around the tent until I found a lantern and tinderbox.

Lighting the lantern, I looked around the tent. A cot, a trunk, and a small table with a pitcher and washbasin. Simple provisions, far less cluttered than his room at home. He’d finally learned to clean up after himself. The thought made me smile.

The pitcher was filled with water. Thank Otets. Disgusting as I felt, I was in no state to greet the husband I’d thought was dead. I cleaned myself as best as I could with the half-frozen water, then took a seat on the cot.

Footsteps approached, and I sprang to my feet.

Chapter thirty-nine

Reunions

Han

Still no word from Mila. As I walked back to my tent, I looked up at the city. Somewhere in there was my wife, possibly facing imprisonment and torture at the hands of Miroslav’s sadistic followers. The tsar still wouldn’t agree to let me go to her, nor would he send someone else.Wait,he cautioned me.Be patient. We can’t spare the men right now, but once the time comes, we will find her.

I was done waiting. The tsar was ready to attack the city, and he still hadn’t made a plan to rescue my wife. It was time to take matters into my own hands. I’d cover the scar on my face, strap my old bean-filled glove to my wrist, and tell the city guards that I was a resident of the city coming back to collect my wife. Tonight, one way or another, I would be with her again. Even if they refused to let me in, and I had to scale the city wall.Even if Borislav labeled me a deserter for it. I’d deal with those problems once my wife was safe.

I just had a few provisions to gather from my tent first.

I pushed aside the tent flap and stopped. A woman stood there, illuminated by lantern-light. She looked at me with wide eyes, biting her lip.

Mila.

It was Mila, in that stranger’s body she’d taken on before she left.

I crossed the tent in two strides, and she was in my arms. “Milochka.”

“Han.” She breathed my name as I pulled her close.

“You’re here.” I couldn’t believe it. I’d been planning to mount a rescue, but here she was waiting for me.

“I’m here.” She took my face in her hands, her eyes filling with tears. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m not.” I ran my hands over her body, searching for signs of injury. Her clothes were dirty and rumpled, but she seemed unharmed. “Fuck, Mila, I thoughtyouwere.” I clutched her to my chest. She was whole. She was safe. She was alive.

“I heard Miroslav killed all the survivors from Barbezht.” Her voice was muffled against me.

“Not all of us.” I stroked her back. “I’m fine. Yakov is fine.”

“Yakov?” She pulled back, looking into my face, her own streaked with tears. “Yakov is alive, too?”

“He is.” I touched her cheek, needing to reassure myself this was real. “We’re all safe.” I kissed her, soft and slow, tasting the tears that covered her face. She was here. Really here.

I deepened the kiss, grabbing her face with both my hands, but she pulled back again and touched my iron hand.

“What’s this?”

“A gift from the tsar. He gave me a command and had it made so I could join the men on the field.” I showed her the gears, moving the fingers. “I can hold a pen and a sword, now.”

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