Page 23 of A War Apart

“Boris?” One of the men that had been imprisoned with me the night I’d lost my hand. Their faces were burned into my memory. Yakov, young and terrified; the grizzled old warrior from Yakov’s unit; Benedikt Ivanovich, my childhood friend who Miroslav had burned to death with his magic; and Boris Stepanovich, the man standing across from me.

His eyes narrowed. “Have we met?”

I removed the glove strapped to my right arm, and he relaxed visibly at my missing hand. “We were imprisoned together the night of the battle,” I said. “You’ll remember my friend, Captain Benedikt Ivanovich?” The smell of burning flesh filled my nose, and I pushed back the memories. Benedikt had deserved better.

His expression darkened. “I remember.” He turned to Konstantin. “This is the man you wanted me to meet?”

Konstantin nodded, and Boris Stepanovich gestured for us to sit. He waved for the innkeeper and ordered a bottle of vodka.

As the innkeeper stepped out, Boris looked at me. “What are you looking for?”

“I just want to know the truth.” Wherever that would lead me. I just wanted to know if there was any good left in this world. Anyone who could bring justice to me, to Mila, to Yakov and Anna.

“What truth?”

I furrowed my brow. Had Konstantin not told him why we were here? “I want to know—”

He cut me off. “I know what you want to know. What I want to know is why. You knelt. I can’t tell you anything until I know you won’t betray us to Miroslav.”

“You knelt as well.” If I’d thought there was even a chance Borislav had survived… No. It was too late to dwell on past actions. “We all did.”

“I’ve answered for my actions.”

We fell silent as the innkeeper returned with the vodka and three wooden cups. Boris Stepanovich poured us each a generous serving as the innkeeper left once more.

I lifted my cup to my lips and took a large swallow, relishing the burn of the alcohol down my throat. Then I spoke again. “I would have died for the cause. We all would have. But I believed the cause—the tsar—was dead, rotting on the field. If it had been Otets’ will for me to die for my tsar, I would have done so willingly. But given the chance to go home, I wasn’t going to seek martyrdom.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you seek it now? This conversation is treason.”

Treason or not, I had to know.

Konstantin cut in. “Han is a close friend of my wife’s family, and loyal to the tsar. I trust him, Boris Stepanovich.”

The other man’s eyes flashed, but he kept them trained on me. “I told you I would meet with him, Konstantin Anatolyevich. If he wants to know, he’ll answer me.”

I shook my head. “If I was wrong to kneel, I need to know. If I’m given another chance to serve the tsar, to fight for justice, I have to take it. For the sake of the hundreds, thousands of lives Miroslav has destroyed.”

Boris Stepanovich leaned back and took a drink. “Konstantin tells me you’re a prosperous farmer, and happily married. It doesn’t seem that he’s destroyedyourlife.”

I slammed my drink on the table, the rage I’d suppressed for the past six weeks boiling up inside me. “Don’t presume to tell me what my life is like,” I whispered, clenching my remaining hand into a fist. “I lost my hand and nearly my whole livelihood. My wife’s family forbade her from marrying me when I returned, and when she married me anyway, her mother didn’t speak to her for a full year. I can barely write my own letters, and I’ll never wield a sword again. I had to relearn how to do everything at home, and I can hardly come into the city without fearing someone will attack me for being a traitor. My wife was beaten half to death by some deserters that monster allowed into his army, causing the death of our unborn son and destroying her spirit. So don’t you d—” I choked on the words, tears of anger clouding my eyes. “Don’t youdaretell me Miroslav hasn’t destroyed my life.”

Chest heaving, I stared at Boris Stepanovich, who watched me with a calculating look, as though weighing the sincerity of my words. Then he nodded.

“Go to the temple outside the city gate. Tell the Brothers there you’ve come to pray for the tsar. They’ll help you find the answers you’re looking for.”

Some of the tension in my chest released in a silent breath.

“Thank you, Boris Stepanovich,” Konstantin said.

Boris grunted, and tossing a coin onto the table to pay for his drinks, strode out of the inn.

Chapter nine

Borislav

Han

“You are sure you want to go alone?” Konstantin asked again. “I can go with you.”

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