Prince and the Throne (Fedosian Wars #2)

18. Something Nice

eighteen

Something Nice

Leaving the red glow of the burning port behind, Sofia and Aleksei rode toward Krakova for seven days, and were halfway to the capital when they came upon a town of scribes and crafters and Sofia begged to stay in an inn for the night. She wanted a hot bath and a warm bed was the excuse, but she wanted to speak with Aleksei. He wasn’t all right, hadn’t been since they left Chartorisky port.

Before they rode out of the port he left with Dominik, disappeared for the whole night, and hadn’t said much since he returned, and that was eight days ago. He was back to hurting himself and Sofia wondered if Niko understood how frail his brother’s mind was.

In the inn, on the second floor, they rented a neat little room with a single bed. From the dresser shaped like a music box to the lantern with ivory paper parasols that softened the glow and dissipated the light evenly, every detail of the room said they were in a town of crafters. The wooden floor was stained with a mahogany hue and the rug was beautiful. Sofia took off her boots by the door and walked around in her wool socks. The floor was warm because the kitchen was below them, and the smell of bread baking seeped up through the boards. The fireplace was already lit, and the innkeeper went to heat water for Sofia because she’d ordered a hot bath.

Aleksei carried in their saddlebags and left them on the floor by the door, shed his cloak and weapons, and hung them from a hook by the bed. “The stables are warm. Charger will be happy.” He sat on a tiny stool and rubbed his face.

“How’s your arm?”

“It’s fine.” He picked up the lantern and turned it, inspecting the contained flame. He would appear as though he was doing things, but his eyes were blank. The light had gone out of them.

Sofia ran her hand along the carved edge of the writing table, left her cloak draped over the chair, went to Aleksei, pulled the rug to where she wanted, and sat down on it. Her skirt rustled.

She put her hand on his knee. “How’s this?”

He blinked. “Sure.”

“How’s your knee, I asked.”

“It’s fine.”

She didn’t ask, ‘What’s wrong?’ Because then the answer would be, ‘Nothing.’ The numerous times he’d hurt himself she didn’t mention, because he would take it as her barraging him. Aleksei was delicate, difficult at times, but he was the man she chose, so she was learning him as she would anything else important to her. She made small talk, then told him about the rose Dominik gave her, and showed it to him.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, feeling the petals. “I hope they are well. Semyon is a good man.”

“And Lev?” Sofia looked up at Aleksei and flicked a brow.

“I can’t say there’s love lost between us.” He returned the rose to her. “But I do believe he’s courageous when he wishes to be and graceful when he’s not wasted.”

“How did Dominik come to have an Apraksin sword?” Sofia put her chin on Aleksei’s knee. “Lev has one, and it’s rather expensive.”

“You don’t say?” Aleksei pretended to be taken aback. “Doma just has nice things. I suppose people find him pretty.”

“He is pretty.”

Aleksei narrowed his eyes, cracking his knuckles. Then the playfulness dropped out of him, and he was bothered again, his jugular pulsing as he clenched his jaw. “Grigori’s back, I heard,” he said casually, running away from the thing bothering him.

“Doing what?” Sofia asked. After their rather peculiar interaction the night the queen died, he’d been gone for… Well, ever since then. She wouldn’t say he’d been missing because no one cared to look for him. “He knew my mother, I think. He asked if I was Yelizaveta.”

“Yeah, you look a lot like her. Not that I’d know but just from that painting… Your aunt was kind. Lord Pyotr, too. I wish I could have met your mother. I’m sure she was as pleasant as you.”

“I had a dream about my father the other day. I saw his face. Well, I mean, I remembered his face. Do you know who he reminded me of?”

“How would I know, Sofia?”

“That’s true. You wouldn’t. In my dream, which I’m not sure how accurate it was, he looked like Grigori.”

“I’m glad you look like your mother, then.” Aleksei frowned. “Please don’t say such things. I have enough nightmares.”

“What? You don’t like Grigori?”

“He’s freakishly tall, Sofia. The man looks like a walking tree.”

“I believe he’s of average height for a male.” Sofia buried her face against the inside of his leg and hid her smile.

“The joke is on you, woman. You chose me. Your brother is shorter than me, by the way. You’re calling him minuscule, then.”

“Lev is not shorter than you, Aleksei.” Sofia reached up and nudged his shoulder.

“Skuratov and I are the same height, and Lev is shorter than Semyon.”

“Aleksei, Aleksei,” she laughed, “Semyon is a bear!”

“What am I, then?”

“A moody stallion,” said Sofia. “And Lev is a macaw, a brightly feathered little bird that goes yap, yap, and yap. Not so little, Uncle was a peacock.”

“What are you?” he asked.

“A cat.”

“That’s not so good for macaw Lev,” Aleksei said. “Do you know what I would do if I were him?”

“Macaw Lev?”

“I’d blow up the railroad, kill Fedya, and wreak havoc in Bone Country, so Niko has come deal with me. I’d make the Shield army march the length of Fedosia, where the supply line is going to choke around Black Ore. It’ll be an expensive campaign the throne can’t afford, and come winter the Shields will have to retreat or find out how darksteel fares in the freezing weather. We’re on the brink of a bloody revolution. All he needs to do is give a little shove, and the throne, the houses, and the lords will come tumbling down. We eat so well we forget the country is starving. Do you know how much it costs to stable our four horses for the night? Ten coppers. Do you know how much a reaper earns during harvest? Fifteen coppers a month. Serfdom was never abolished. They just gave it another name, Treasury.

“Niko and I used to talk and talk about this. Alchemy enforces serfdom, it keeps the wealthy in power, and I thought a prince who can’t do alchemy would understand the inborn unfairness. Fedosia is dying and I hoped he’d save her, but he’s the same as everyone before him, unworthy.” He closed his eyes and slow tears trailed down the length of his face. “I killed her, Sofia. Lord Chartorisky drowned with his ship. Daniil fled to Elfur. Zoya didn’t have anyone else because we killed her aunt. She didn’t want to burn because it would have made her ugly, she’d said. I killed her because she asked me to. Why do I break my back for him if he’s going to act exactly like Burkhard the first chance he gets?” Aleksei crinkled his nose and the large scarlet eyes glistened with tears.

“The archmage wasn’t wrong,” he continued. “We’re the worst house in Fedosia. Just fucken dogs foaming at the mouth, mad from eating each other. I wish Viktor was alive. He had a way of putting people in their place. He wasn’t wrong about us either. I’m not good enough for you.” He wiped his face.

“You say that because you didn’t know my uncle,” said Sofia. “And if you really believe alchemy is serfdom, the archmage was the tyrant of it all. Alchemy belongs to the Guards, we only allow you to use it, his words.”

“He was a cocky bastard, wasn’t he?” he remarked.

“Uncle was arrogant, yes.” Sofia got up and tapped Aleksei’s leg. Now that he’d told her what was hurting him—Zoya’s death, the rest was just venting—he looked relieved. “Will you go get us food? I suppose my bath is ready now, and I’d like to eat something before we go to sleep.”

“Sure.” Slowly, Aleksei rose. “I’ll go get us more firewood as well.” He pointed at the window. Sofia turned and saw it was snowing.

“Can we stay a few more days and rest the horses?” she asked. “They have beautiful things here. I saw a shop of rare ingredients when we rode in. I want to visit it tomorrow. There was also crystal… Do we have money?”

“Only bags full of silver coins.”

“What?” Sofia eyed the saddlebags. Those were a lot of bags, and she didn’t recall having that many clothes.

“Well, it doesn’t belong to Niko, either,” Aleksei said. “I served him for all fifteen years of his life. I’m due my pay. I thought to get you something nice, which I reckon I never have.”

That was a lot of nice things. Sofia tore her eyes from the bags and smiled at Aleksei. “You’re my something nice.”

Aleksei turned to her and held her face with both of his hands, as she was looking up at him. All right, he was taller. The space between them gradually depleted. Their noses touched and they looked at each other’s lips as though they’d never kissed before, as though they didn’t know where a mouth was on a face, as though they’d never seen each other. Aleksei went for it first and Sofia closed her eyes.

She tasted him. His tongue was in her mouth. He breathed a small sigh, a soft moan, then picked her up, her wool socks dangling in the air, carried her, and sat her on the dresser shaped like a music box. The fancy alchemy lamp fell on the rug and rolled when she felt for a place to put her hand. She gave her neck to him, her hand on his crown as he kissed down the side of her neck.

The winter whistled outside, the logs crackled in the fireplace, and a muffled chatter came from the kitchen downstairs, but the loudest was his breathing, turning sharp. He pulled her to him and their hips met.

“You’re so beautiful.” His hand in her hair, he pulled her head back and down, exposing the front of her neck. Then his other hand closed around her throat. “Sometimes I want to fucken kill you, so you won’t leave me.”

“Do it, then,” Sofia whispered.

“How about I fuck you?” he hissed.

“No, I don’t want you.”

He sobered from the haze he’d been in and released her hair. The soft brows furrowed, confused, and he cocked his head, asking. Dear saints, she’d escalated it wrong. Because he was still Aleksei, sometimes it escaped her mind he didn’t remember how they used to play these games.

“Oh, never you mind.” She grabbed his shirt and pulled him, and her legs wrapped around him.

“Are you sure?” Now, he was just confused.

“Yeah, sorry.”

Then there was no longer any confusion as her hand slipped inside his trousers and he took a sharp inhale. The troubles he’d been having had taken the night off. His want was pronounced, fully erect.

“This feels warm,” he said about her stockings before he tore it. She liked that stocking. It had been wool, and it had been warm. But they had money to buy another one, she supposed.

The innkeeper found the most unfortunate time to enter without knocking to tell Sofia about her bath, then fled, and the door slammed behind her. Sofia didn’t care, but Aleksei’s eyes flicked to make sure it wasn’t someone dangerous, it wasn’t, and returned to her.

Their lips had been locked together when he pushed into her and she moaned into his mouth.

“God,” he whispered.

“Blasphemy, Aleksei.”

“He understands.”

The dresser shaped like a music box played a strange type of tune, knocking into the wall behind it, and sounding as though they were assembling furniture with hammers. Apparently, very sad furniture or a murderous one because not long after, Sofia was either crying or being killed. She wouldn’t say she healed him, but they’d come a long way since they left Krakova, and not just in miles. His desire for her was gone, he’d said, but it appeared he’d had a change of mind, fully and wonderfully.

“Aleksei! Aleksei!” she yelled at him, clawed into his back, wheezed with her hair stuck to her face, and turned unpretty before she cried, stuttered, and erupted.

“Aleksei…” She pressed her forehead on his shoulder and quivered with a long winding sigh.

He just breathed and held her.

A moment passed, then he carried her to the bed and lay her down. Bath, she thought, then she pulled the cover over her. She was too spent for anything else.

He cleaned up at the washing table, then said, “We need more firewood, and I’ll see what food they have.”

“Yeah.” Sofia was racing toward sleep as though into the arms of a long lost friend on the beach. “You do that.”

“Yelizaveta.”

Screaming, she sat up. Her whole body shivered. Aleksei had been by the door and stared at her as though she’d lost her mind.

“What’s wrong?” He came and knelt by her bed and took her hand. “Bad dream?”

“He touched me, Aleksei.” Sofia scanned around the room, inspecting the shadow cast from every stick of furniture. “I felt him touch me.”

“There’s no one here, Sofia.”

“There is. There is. I need to see Lev. He’s the only one who can help. Will you take me to see him?” For decades, the stranger had been as benign as the stuffed macaw she used to talk to, but it had been growing stronger since the archmage’s death. It was her fault, and she knew so.

“Of course,” said Aleksei, though he was still confused. “Krakova is on the way, anyway. Let me go home and find out where Lev is, and when the next train is leaving…” He thought for a moment because they wouldn’t be allowed on it. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out.” He nodded and got up. “Let me go get firewood for now. Then we’ll figure out the rest, yeah?”

“Wait, I want to go with you.” She got up and grabbed her cloak. The craft town was ruined now. The damn thing had frightened her. She clutched Lev’s rose and took it with her as though her brother’s light would protect her from thousands of miles away.

Then as she descended the steps with her arm looped through Aleksei’s, she reconsidered her decision. Though he hadn’t hesitated, they had no way of boarding the train or staying on it. Aleksei had no resources in the Bone Country, should they manage to get there, and not only Lev hated Aleksei, she hadn’t taken into account a vital thing: Aleksei killed Papa. Lev might or might not know it was Aleksei who killed his father, but he certainly knew the Shields burned his home and slaughtered the Guard household.

“I had a bad dream,” Sofia said. “Don’t worry about the Bone Country.” She’d figure it out on her own.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. But you won’t mind if I put Guard sacred relics in the Red Manor, would you?”

“Of course not, you do as you wish. Everything I have belongs to you, and if I don’t have it, I’ll get it for you.”