Page 61 of A War Apart

Mila

Two weeks. Two weeks since the court had left to follow the army, and the palace was as silent as a tomb. Even most of the trade workers had gone home when the court left. Without a tsar and a court, there was little reason to keep the palace fully staffed.

Sitting in my room, I cast my eyes around for something to do. I’d already managed to finish Princess Alisa’s ornate dress. Hopefully, the princess would be pleased, though knowing the woman’s temperament, I doubted it. Hateful woman. With any luck, she would freeze to death watching the battle and put everyone else out of her misery.

I sighed, two weeks of silence, with nothing but my own thoughts for company, save for the rare times when I saw one of the skeleton crew of servants left to keep the palace in order. What good was being a spy at court if I wasn’t actuallywiththecourt? Miroslav could be slaughtering my tsar, my husband, and my friends, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Wan winter light pooled through the windows as the walls crept closer. What was happening out there, wherever Borislav’s army had camped? Was the battle over? Had we won? Or was Miroslav on his way back to Idesk right now, with Han’s head on a pike?

The room swam around me, bile rising in my throat. I couldn’t stay in this room any longer. I needed a distraction. I stood, grabbed my coat, and fled the room.

Snow was falling, the air frozen, but I barely noticed the cold. I stalked across the palace grounds with no goal but to escape from my thoughts.

My footsteps led me toward the Frozen Boar. The inn was a long walk away, but at least it wouldn’t be empty like the palace. I could lose myself in the bustle of people. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since last night. Some beet soup or pirozhki might settle my nerves.

When I reached the palace gate, though, all thought of food vanished.

Miroslav was back.

He thundered into the courtyard atop his horse, his retinue close behind him. I drew back into the shadows with my heart in my throat. Were they fleeing a loss or hurrying back after a victory? They hadn’t sent advance riders, and their horses were flecked with lather. They had obviously ridden hard, as though hurrying to escape Tsar Borislav. But surely the tsar wouldn’t have pursued his brother all the way to the capital.

My eyes caught on one of Miroslav’s retinue. Kazimir Vladimirovich. My chest tightened at the expression on his face. Fury, like the fury he’d shown on the day I first met him. The day he murdered my son.

I took deep breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth. Control. I had to control my emotions. I couldn’t afford to do otherwise.

If Kazimir Vladimirovich was angry, it had to be a good sign. Borislav must have won the battle. I closed my eyes and let my breaths wash away my tension. We would win this war. There was no other possibility.

After the fourth or fifth breath, I felt eyes on me. Alexey Grigorovich sat astride a horse near Lord Kazimir, and he frowned at me, his gaze intense.

I dropped him a bow. He dismounted and handed off his reins to a stableboy. The tsar and noblemen were already walking into the palace, but he didn’t follow them. He dusted off his coat and strode toward me.

“Sofia Stepanova.” He bowed.

“Welcome back,” I said. “I trust our tsar successfully defeated the rebels?”

He scanned my face, an unreadable look on his own. His full lips tightened, and he shook his head. “Unfortunately not. They were better prepared than we expected, and I fear the tsar’s—” He cut himself off. “We were defeated soundly. The tsar and his advisors rode ahead of the court.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to hide the relief coursing through me.

“You are well?” he asked, that unreadable look back in his eyes.

“Yes, thank you.” We’d won the battle. Han would be safe. “Were there many casualties?” I hoped the tremor in my voice would be attributed to feminine weakness.

“No more than expected. Although…” He trailed off, dark eyes fixed somewhere in the distance. He looked back at me, as if judging how much to share. “Tsar Miroslav had the surviving Barbezht traitors taken prisoner before the battle. All of them. Abargaining chip of sorts against the Grand Duke. When Borislav refused to surrender, the tsar had them killed.”

No.

My stomach clenched and loosened. No. This couldn’t be happening. Han was supposed to be with Borislav, supposed to be safe. How had Miroslav gotten him? The world swam around me, and my knees buckled.

Before I could fall, strong arms caught me and guided me to a nearby seat.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was distant and muffled. “I shouldn’t have shared such gruesome news.”

I gasped for air. My coat was suffocating me, but I couldn’t get it off. I clawed at the clasp, unable to make my stiff fingers move properly.

He pulled my hands away, and then I was free of the coat. I still couldn’t breathe. I curled in on myself, gasping for air.

Gone. Just like that, Han was gone. He’d wanted me to stay, practically begged me, but I’d left him anyway, and now he was gone. And Yakov, young, cheerful Yakov was gone, too. Did Anna know? The loss of her only son would break her.

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