Prince and the Throne (Fedosian Wars #2)

3. A Misunderstanding

three

A Misunderstanding

The stone walls, the narrow slit of windows, the domed ceiling, the great hall, and much of the den reminded Sofia of a church, and the dining hall was no different. It would be a nave had there been an altar and saints instead of a long table and chairs. It felt sacrilegious to be eating meat in the hall of prayers and Sofia kept herself to fruits. The duke served a whole boar, and the nearly alive creature perched at the center of the table.

The chewing sound was revolting because there was no music. They hadn’t waited for the prince and just ate as Sofia sat alone. Aleksei hadn’t come, either.

The Chartorisky siblings sat on the duchess’ side of the table and across from Sofia who was on the duke’s side. Down the table were the duke’s five children along with Shield commanders and their wives whose faces were obstructed by the boar.

“So, Lady Guard, what is your business with my nephew?” The duke stroked his beard. He had a thick gold ring with a ruby setting on his thumb and held a gold cup in his other hand. He slurped wine loudly, wiping his mouth with his hand, and talked while he chewed.

“His Highness, you mean?” Sofia dabbed her lips with the napkin, realized it didn’t smell clean, folded it, and set it on the table. “I’m here to negotiate the terms of peace on behalf of my brother.”

“Isn’t your father a necromancer, not Pyotr Guard?” Oleksandra, the lady who wore a stableboy’s attire to her father’s table, pointed her fork at Sofia.

“It’s true,” Zoya butted in. “Her father was an Elfurian necromancer, and the archmage burned him at the stake.”

“Family drama, am I right?” Oleksandra wore darksteel gear to dinner, and the cup she held was gold like the duke’s. The whole family drank from gold cups. It was a mark of paranoia because gold changed color with the touch of poison. The duke thought someone might poison him in his own house.

“Every great family has drama,” Sofia said.

“Some more public than others,” Zoya remarked.

The duke’s three sons, Dragan, Fedir, and Vukhir sat in a row like three carrion crows, from oldest to youngest. Dragan, the oldest, was a large man with a fur lined collar but he wasn’t unpleasant to look at. The other two were different. The middle son Fedir wasn’t much different than the boar on the table with pudgy short fingers with dirt under the nails, and long sharp teeth like tusks. He ate the raw part of the creature, and his mouth was red with blood when he chuckled at something one of the commanders said. It was too far and too quiet for Sofia to have caught it.

The younger two, Vukhir and Teo, both resembled rodents. Showing astonishing disrespect, Teo the brat girl wore a coronet to the table when they were expecting the prince, and Vukhir kept shoving things into his mouth while it was still full, further reminding Sofia of a marmot.

Zoya was whispering in her aunt’s ear, both women giggling, and Daniil and Dragan speaking in hushed voices wearing serious faces, when the door flung open with a loud slam against the stone walls, echoing through the hall.

“Why isn’t my brother allowed to come to dinner?” Niko’s voice rang, and all Sofia heard was ‘brother’ and flinched inside. Correcting him now would only draw attention to it, though, and she rose in a hurry, trying to curtsy.

“His Highness Prince Nikolas!” The steward ran in to announce, out of breath at probably having chased after Niko.

Niko stood by the door, fuming, and Eugene lurked behind him in the hall. The sentinel had his full gear on and kept his hand on his hilt. He typically carried his darksteel as a blunt rod, but in the den, he’d shaped it into a proper sword.

No one had gotten up except for Sofia who managed a curtsy, and the duke asked, as he slurped loudly, “What are you going on about, boy?”

“Not a boy, I’m your prince, and I demand to know why Aleksei wasn’t invited to dinner?”

“He’s a sentinel, Prince,” the duke said. “Common soldiers don’t eat at the lord’s table.”

“He’s not common. Burkhard outranked you, Rodion.” Niko didn’t acknowledge Sofia, so she didn’t rise, and kept her head bowed. “Also, you refused to feed my sentinels? Why?”

“Since your mother was so keen on feeding the Pulyazin rather than her own, we don’t have the grains to spare, Prince, not with the winter coming,” the duke said.

“Mother sent you plenty. Maybe he ate it all. Look at him!” Without looking, Sofia knew Niko was pointing at Fedir. “I want food for my sentinels or I’m leaving!”

“Go where, boy?” the duke asked. “Back to the capital you’re most definitely going to lose without my men? I hear Lev Guard gathers his allies and he’s coming for your head, not mine. So, sit, eat, and don’t disrespect my family.”

That was it. Sofia’s legs hurt anyway. She rose and stood by Niko. “Well, with my coming here, I hoped to assess if the duke was a suitable guardian for the young prince. But since he appears to be in dire straits, unable even to feed his own men, I hereby nominate Lev of Guard for tsar regent and the guardian of the prince till he is of age.

“That will end the conflict, Your Highness. All you need is to assemble the Boyar Duma once you’re in the capital,” she said.

“You have no right.” The duke glowered at Sofia, taking her into his crosshairs.

“Your Highness, who is your father?” Sofia asked.

“Saint Neva of White Guard,” Niko said.

“Of White Guard,” Sofia repeated. “It appears we have every right, Duke Rodion.”

“That’s not true. She has no authority,” Zoya said. “I thought you fought with Aleksei and were leaving?”

She had long ears. Sofia wondered if Aleksei had told her that, but she wouldn’t fight with Zoya over a man when they were discussing the Guards claiming the throne.

“I didn’t say she fought with Aleksei. I just said she was leaving, and Aleksei was upset.” Niko stumped his boot on the stone floor. “You’re stupid, Zoya! You said it’d be funny to send Dominik to Sofia, but it wasn’t, and Aleksei got mad at me. I thought you were a proper lady, but I found out you entertained many men including Lev Guard. You call him a dick licker, yet you kissed him on the mouth, anyway! This wedding is off. I don’t like you and I’m not marrying you.”

Niko turned and grabbed Sofia’s arm. “Get your things. We’re leaving. They’re stupid and this place is terrible.” Then he yelled at Rodion, “I don’t need your help. Lev is dead anyway. But I won’t be sending you any more grain! Or steel! Or money!” The prince turned on his heels and strode out dragging Sofia behind, whilst shouting, “And she’s wearing a coronet! Off with her head!”

“What the fuck?” Aleksei mouthed to Sofia as she came out into the courtyard with two servants from the duke’s household carrying her things.

Niko was behind Aleksei, stubbornly demanding to leave already while Eugene stuffed his things into the royal carriage. The sentinels were all outside, some mounted already, and the prince’s carriage was hitched to six black horses.

“My lady.” Ignat the white haired sentinel bowed and took Sofia’s trunks from the servants. Her coach was ready as well, two white horses pawing restlessly.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Sofia stood with Aleksei and whispered in the courtyard filled with lanterns, neighing horses, jingling tacks, and sentinels relaying orders.

Their mounts were tired. They had no provisions for the three week trip back to Krakova because they’d relied on resupplying at the den, they’d lost the Chartorisky as an ally, and come spring, Lev would arrive not to pat Niko’s head but to take it. He was upset about Papa’s death, Sofia imagined, the way he’d beheaded the envoy and sent his head in a box with flowers.

“Brother, let’s leave! They are insolent!” Niko shouted all over the courtyard.

“This is a shit show,” Aleksei breathed. “Fuck.”

“Should we wait for the Chartorisky, Captain?” Dominik asked.

“No!” Niko yelled. “She’s stupid. I’m not marrying her.”

“Simmer down, Niko,” Aleksei said, but guided Sofia to her coach anyway. He barked at someone to check the wheels on the royal carriage, claiming it looked lopsided, but he was stalling.

He climbed into the coach with Sofia and once he closed the door, he let out a long line of colorful curses, then buried his face in his hands. Seven years older than Niko, he was only twenty-two and at his wit’s end. “What am I to do?”

“We have to leave,” she whispered. “The prince said he would, so we must.”

“What happened with Zoya?”

“Someone told Niko she’d been with Lev… Is it true?”

“Why does that matter?” he asked.

“It matters to Niko,” she said. “Come on, Aleksei. We’ll figure out the rest later, but we have to move now.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Aleksei tutted. As he reached for the door, it opened from the outside, revealing Lord Dragan, the duke’s oldest son.

“The prince will not hear me, but may I have a word, cousin?” Dragan asked, after acknowledging Sofia with a courteous nod.

“Speak.” Aleksei leaned back in his seat, casually spinning a dagger in his right hand.

“I believe we got off on the wrong foot. There is no need to leave in the middle of the night, cousin. We are family, and our support is with the crown prince. Please come inside so we may talk this over tomorrow while laughing about tonight.”

“I’m laughing already,” said Aleksei. “What say your father?”

“My father sends me, cousin.”

“Then perhaps he should be the one to say it,” Aleksei said, his scarlet gaze cold and arrogant as he glanced at Dragan standing outside.

“Come on, Aleksei, be reasonable.” Dragan cocked his head. “Father is now head of the house. He’s not coming out to apologize to a child even if the child is a prince.”

“I suppose we’re leaving, then,” was Aleksei’s answer. He reached over to pull the door, but Dragan held it.

“You should know there will be war should Lev of Guard come anywhere near the throne,” Dragan said.

Aleksei flicked a look at Sofia, and she was glad the lack of light in the cabin concealed her burning face. Though she meant to help, she certainly had overreached.

“Good,” said Aleksei. “Then Elfur can come pouring through the Narrow while we have a pissing contest in Krakova.”

“You presume you can go to Krakova.” Though the smile remained, the lord didn’t look too warm just then.

“That sounded like a threat, cousin.” Had there been any self-doubt in Aleksei, it blinked out in a beat, as he shoved Dragan back, surprising the lord with his strength, and stepped out. “Are you threatening the prince?”

“Aleksei.” Sofia rushed out after them to put herself between the captain whose alchemy glowed on his darksteel vambraces and the lord who wasn’t used to dealing with sentinels and was surprised at how quickly that escalated. She held Aleksei’s sword hand, though if he wanted to, he could easily shake off her grip. “Lord Dragan misspoke, I’m sure. Right?” She turned to the lord, all but begging.

Dragan’s eyes checked the battlement where his men were, then scanned the courtyard now glowing with alchemy as numerous as the lanterns. Dominik was right behind him, his fingers tapping the hilt of his sword.

Ignat’s attention was on the ramparts, walkways, and rooftops where shadows flickered as soldiers lined up with their crossbows. “Captain?”

“Put out the light,” Aleksei said.

The lanterns blinked out at once as though someone had blown the candles, and Sofia saw the confusion on Dragan’s face, perhaps realizing for the first time that a hundred sentinels might be more trouble than he bargained for—he lost track of them in a beat. Ignat who’d been right by them had vanished, Dominik too, and the royal carriage was open but empty inside. The courtyard fell silent and dark at once.

“Lord Dragan misspoke, I’m sure, right?” Sofia repeated, and this time the lord slowly nodded.

“Misunderstanding, cousin,” he muttered. “Let me go speak with my father.”