Page 73 of A War Apart

Xhela, the priestess’s husband, was silent throughout this exchange. The smaller of the two sons had left his seat at the table to climb into his father’s lap and whisper something. Xolok sighed.

“Yes. But don’t expect to get anything else later!” he added as the child ran out of the room.

The older boy, who had been picking at his food, looked at his father expectantly. As soon as Xolok nodded, he was on his feetand out the door. Xolok sighed heavily and stood. “Excuse me,” he said, following the boys from the room.

I chuckled. “Your children are beautiful, Yixa na Chekke.”

“Do you have children, Han Antonovich?” the priestess asked.

“No.” I caught Yakov’s eye, the memory of my unborn son heavy on my heart. “Not anymore, no.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Conversation stalled as we finished eating. Finally, Yixa na Chekke folded her arms on the table. “You say Miroslav has earned a Disinheritance, and you wish for the Drakra to join you in making it. Tell me, what has Miroslav Vyacheslavovich done to disqualify him from ruling?”

Lada met her yellow-eyed stare. “In addition to creating an army in peacetime and mutilating prisoners of war,” she inclined her head toward me and Yakov, “he’s committed the most grievous of sins a Sanctioned can. He turned the Gifts of the Blood on his unSanctioned subjects.”

“Miroslav is a brute,” Yakov said. “Did you know, Lady, that only thirteen of us survived the battle of Barbezht? And only two of us are alive today, because Miroslav slaughtered the other eleven to make a point to his brother.”

“A monster he might be,” the Mandible said, “but why would we risk our already depleted people to support a man who already lost one rebellion? If Miroslav won before, why should we not ally with him? Or perhaps we should remain neutral, to mitigate our risk.”

“He won’t stop,” I said quietly. They looked at me, and I cleared my throat. “Miroslav has left you alone so far. He’s been busy solidifying his power, building his army. But once he’s dealt with the other threats to his throne, he’ll turn his gaze east. His father drove your people into the mountains, slaughtering you, but Miroslav is ten times worse than his father. He won’t stopuntil the Drakra are wiped out and he has complete control over the entire territory, all through the mountains.”

The priestess’s mouth pinched together. “Is Borislav any different? They come from the same womb. Who’s to say one is any better than the other?”

“Tsar Borislav is prepared to make assurances to you,” I said. “He sent us as a gesture of goodwill. We can negotiate some of the lands you lost in the Spider Wars, as well as establishing trade and ambassadorial relations between our two peoples.” I prayed that was all it would take to establish the alliance. I didn’t know if I could stomach carrying out the tsar’s other order.

Yixa na Chekke stared at me, contemplating. “This is quite sudden. I must consult our goddess and speak with my advisors. We will meet again tomorrow.”

Chapter twenty-six

A Night Off

Mila

Shouts of anger echoed through the hall. As I reached the quarters belonging to the baron and baroness of Arick, the door swung open, and Lord Kazimir came out, his face contorted with fury. I cringed, but he didn’t spare me a glance as he stormed past. Alexey, following the baron, wore a grim expression. He caught sight of me and stopped.

“Is something wrong?” I murmured.

He grimaced. “Lady Yelena was sick in front of the baron. It dirtied his shoes, and…” He shook his head.

“Grigorovich!” Lord Kazimir yelled from down the hall. “I don’t pay you to stand around gossipping with the help!”

“Coming, my lord!” he called back. He turned back to me. “Your training is coming along nicely. I thought we could take the night off,da?We could have supper, maybe take a walk through the city.”

“I’d like that.” After almost a month of daily training sessions, I deserved a break. And Alexey wasn’t inclined to conversation while sparring, so maybe an evening of leisure would loosen his tongue.

“I’ll come to your quarters when he’s finished with me.” He pressed his lips together and inclined his head toward me before following the baron.

Lady Yelena was reclining on a low divan in the sitting room. “Sofia Stepanova.” She smiled at me, then winced and pressed a hand to her piebald face. “Apologies. I fell this morning, and I believe I have a bruise forming.”

The white patch of skin around her left eye was swollen and red. My stomach clenched as I pasted on a smile. The bastard had hit his wife for nothing more than being ill? I knew how brutal he could be—I’d been on the receiving end of that brutality, after all—but I would have expected him to be kinder to the woman he married.

“Not at all, my lady,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m afraid I may be too late, but I wondered if you might be able to make me something to wear for Prophet’s Day? My lord is to be granted a new title during the celebration, and he wishes me to be dressed as befits his station.”

“Not too late at all,” I assured her. The baroness was my social superior, but she was so polite, almost deferential. It was a welcome contrast to the demanding noblewomen I’d come to expect. “I have some designs here, if you’d like to look at them.” I drew the papers out of my pack and set them on the table in front of her.

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