Page 123 of A War Apart

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” My voice was small. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

He didn’t look at me. “What did you think would happen? What did you want?”

“I wanted to go home!” My eyes filled with hot tears. “I wanted my husband not to be branded a traitor. I wanted to raise my son. I wanted to live somewhere I didn’t have to fear for everyone I loved.” The words poured out of me as fast as the tears rolling down my cheeks. “I wanted to live a quiet life with my family. But Kazimir and Miroslav took that away from me. Miroslav crippled my husband. Kazimir killed my son. They turned my home into a battleground. So yes, Alexey, I went to court to spy on Miroslav. And yes, I passed on what you told me.But I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I certainly didn’t mean to fall in love with you.” The last words came out in a sob, and I leaned against the cell, grabbing the wood for support.

In the aftermath of my outburst, all I could hear was the ragged sound of my breathing. I closed my eyes, willing the tears to fade.

A hand brushed my face. “I did.” I looked up to see Alexey staring at me, his own eyes glistening. “I meant to fall in love with you,” he said.

A sob escaped me. He’d loved me, and I’d betrayed him. “Alexey, I—”

He placed a finger over my lips, cutting me off. “I told you I didn’t care how long I had with you, that every moment was a blessing. I lied.” He slid his hand to the scarf I wore on my head, slipping a finger under the edge. “I want every moment of the rest of your life. I want to help you move on from whatever happened before me, and I want to protect you from whatever comes next.” He slipped the scarf from my head, voice lowering to a growl. “And I don’t want to send you back to the bastard of a husband who sent you to court to do his dirty work.”

He kissed me, a hungry, possessive kiss that set my heart racing. My forehead pressed against the wood planks between us as he pulled me closer, holding me to him with his hand on the back of my head. I could taste my tears on his lips.

“Don’t go, Sofia,” he murmured when he finally pulled back.

My breath came in pants, forming clouds in the air, and my tears still flowed. “Mila.” He searched my eyes, questioning, so I clarified. “My name is Mila Dmitrievna.”

He let go of me and stepped back. All emotion on his face disappeared once more. “My apologies, Mila Dmitrievna.”

“Alexey, no.” I reached for his hand, letting out a breath when he didn’t step away. Something flickered in his eyes as our hands touched. “I didn’t mean to feel what I do for you. I’m married.”

“Yes, you’ve said that.” I could hear the hurt behind the anger in his voice.

“I thought he was dead.” Fuck, this was hard. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pressed on. “But he’s not. And when I found out he was alive, I had already fallen in love with you.” I shook my head. “I just wanted to know that you knew me, not Sofia.”

“I do. Or,” he shrugged. “I thought I did.”

I deserved that. I’d lied to him for months. Tears welled in my eyes again, and I wiped furiously at them.

He brushed his thumb against the back of my hand, watching it as he did. “But your name doesn’t matter to me. Who you are, that doesn’t change. No matter what you did, what you felt like you had to do, that woman is still the same, whether you call her Sofia or Mila.”

I blinked up at him. I’d heard that somewhere before. Maybe not those words exactly, but the sentiment. Izolda had said it, maybe?

No. A stone settled in my stomach. Han had told me something similar the day the tsar changed me.

“I fell in love with you. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me now, but whatever happens next, knowing you loved me, however briefly…” His words trailed off into silence. He turned my hand over and pressed a kiss into the palm. “You’re my sun, and my life will be dark without you.”

I gave him a weak, teary smile, but he returned my gaze solemnly. “Go home, Mila. Go be with your husband. Raise your children, serve your tsar. Be happy.”

“And you?” I fought to hide the tremor in my voice.

He shrugged. “Exile if I’m lucky. Execution if I’m not.”

I shuddered at his casual tone. I should tell him what Izolda had said about the Drakra, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. He wouldn’t be executed, surely. But after eight years of laboringfor the Drakra, what part of who he was would remain? “I want to help you. I can talk to my husband—”

He cut me off. “No. I don’t want his charity.”

“And mine?” I clenched his hand tight in mine, wishing for…anything. “Can’t I do something?”

“Go home,” he repeated. “Go home and be happy.” He trailed a finger down my cheek, and I closed my eyes.

My tears were back in full force now. He dropped his hands to his side and stepped back, out of my reach. “Goodbye, my sun.”

I took a step back. Another. I stumbled, still watching him, and he flinched.

“Easy, Fia.” Izolda, coming from nowhere, put a steadying hand on my arm. “It’s late. We should get you back.”

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