Prince and the Throne (Fedosian Wars #2)

26. I Told You So

twenty-six

I Told You So

The soldiers’ quarters were a pitiful place with bare stone walls and rows of narrow wooden beds, flimsy like folding chairs. The sentinels had made it home, however, hanging keepsakes from the wall along with their gear. There had been only five sentinels at Raven during the Pulyazin assault, three were injured including Dominik, and two had sadly been killed. One of the dead had a silver locket hanging from the head of the vacant bed, a gift from a lady, no doubt. War was a harrowing thing, collecting lives unlived and leaving only stories to be told.

The quarters were tidy, everything folded and stacked, the floor swept, and it smelled of dry rosemary and lavender. Sofia wanted to check on the wounded and brought food. She’d asked Niko to dismiss them, explaining three sentinels wouldn’t make a difference should the castle full of Pulyazin turn hostile and that they should go home to get better care. Dominik for one was from Krakova, but her true reason was she knew Aleksei would come tonight and didn’t want the wounded to get left behind to be tortured for amusement once their prince fled.

Dominik had been lying with his cloak pulled over his head and got up when Sofia came in. He helped her carry the tray of food. They had a little kitchen area with a wooden table and a long bench where Sofia set the meals down. The corner was by the fireplace and warm.

“Thank you for your concern, my lady.” He sat down to eat but the other two remained asleep. Perhaps they were sedated.

It was just some broth and bread, but it was warm, and she’d quarreled with the Pulyazin cook to get the small portions. The Raven had a multitude of cooks, of course, but Lord Fedya was paranoid about being poisoned and had barred anyone who hadn’t come with him from the kitchen and storage areas.

Sofia added wood to the fire, turned the logs, then sat down with Dominik. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too well, my lady.” He smiled though his face was ashen from the blood loss. “How is the prince?”

“He’s fine. Also, he says you should go home.” Sofia flicked her gaze to the sleeping sentinels. “Are they able to walk?”

“Yes.” He studied her while he chewed bread. Keen, this one. “Did the captain say something?”

“He says to get out of here before tonight,” she muttered, blowing on a spoonful of soup. “I’ll speak with Lev in a moment and get permission. I’m on my way to him. Gather your things, yeah?”

He nodded. “Do you know what happened to Lord Semyon?”

“He died at Usolya, I heard,” Sofia said.

“That’s too bad.”

“Yeah.” Sofia let it sink in. “All of you are friends, aren’t you? Lev, Daniil, Semyon…”

“We know each other,” was his answer. “Eugene arrived, I heard.”

“Same,” said Sofia. She hadn’t seen him.

“He’s not fit for command. He can barely read. It was a mistake taking the sentinels to Seniya. We already have a garrison there. It’s our city.”

“You’re a highborn, right?” Sofia remarked.

“My father was a baron here in Krakova.”

“What happened to him?” she asked.

“Died in a duel over a card game. My mother remarried, chose some merchant who had money. Silver over title is the saying, I believe. He kicked me out and I had nowhere to go, so,” he shrugged, “I came to Raven.”

“Oh, so you don’t have a home here,” said Sofia. “Do you have someplace you can stay?”

He made a smug face—he had plenty of places to go to. And when Sofia asked if the other two had friends in the city, his answer was, “We’re Imperial Sentinels.”

After Sofia finished with Dominik, she went to find Lev, meaning to tell him to let the sentinels leave. She didn’t expect a problem, but who knew?

Lev was in the domed room where Niko used to hold his assembly with the old serious men, the ministers of every conceivable thing. What they discussed, Sofia didn’t know because she wasn’t a minister, but Lev was splayed out on the wool carpet with a peacock, a bottle of wine by his side.

“It’s odd.” He sat up. “I thought this was Raven, but I find myself surrounded by our shit. Look, that’s the bust of Uncle Pasha.” He pointed and Sofia laughed. Niko had mistaken him for a saint perhaps. “And this carpet,” he tapped his heel, “my mother had it made for the archmage. And that mirror is from the servants’ quarters. The frame is yellow paint, but I suppose the dimwit child thinks it’s gilded.”

That, Sofia assumed Niko had done purposefully. The prince knew very well what was gold and what was shiny yellow paint and surrounded himself with the latter. Lev on the other hand still had the forged gold on. At this point, she was only waiting for him to figure it out and planned to blame the luminary. She’d had the entire conversation in her head.

“Did you know I pissed in that vase?”

“Why?” Sofia sat down on the carpet with him. She smelled dust and it certainly hadn’t come from the White Palace this way. “Get up, Lev, the floor is dirty.”

“It was Mother’s favorite vase, and I was angry with her.”

“So this was a long time ago and now just now? That’s good.” She got up and pulled him up. “What happened to your knights, by the way?”

“Freezing their balls in the nowhere country, supposedly rallying people for my cause. Without church couriers, it’s impossible to know what’s going on. They probably don’t know I’m here.”

Compared to yesterday, he was much more himself, and Sofia hugged him, patting his back as though he was still a child. The moment passed, then she asked, “There are three injured sentinels at Raven. They’re doing nothing. Is it all right if they leave? One is Dominik, I think you know him.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. What do I care?”

“Can you tell the druzhina?”

“Sure.”

Lev told a random Pulyazin soldier in the corridor and a breath later Isidor appeared demanding to know why as though it had been a serious infraction. Sofia didn’t like him. He gawked at her and kept touching her.

“Do you know they make us big out in Bone Country?” Isidor asked.

“You’re not that tall,” Sofia said.

He flicked down to his privates and Sofia burned. She wasn’t accustomed to men speaking to her in such a way. They also made them crude out in Bone Country.

“Is this how you talk to a lady?” Sofia asked.

“Pulyazin women, of course not, but you’re a zapadnik.”

That just meant from the west, but she assumed he meant it as a slur. Lev was speaking with another druzhina and didn’t hear him, which was probably good.

Sofia had been walking away, when she heard, “I can kill the Shield boy if you’re worried about him.”

She turned and sized him up. Isidor was larger than Aleksei but not significantly. Either way, she didn’t want trouble and smiled at him.

“You are so fine,” Isidor said.

Lev caught that. “Fuck off, Isidor.”

After they left, Sofia whispered, “Perhaps don’t be rude. There are so many of them.”

“So what? Who cares?” He should, was her point. But he missed it, and said, “If you fancy him, go at it.”

“Lev!”

“I don’t know.” He threw up his arms. “It’s not like you have good judgment in that regard.”

“Never you mind… Aleksei asked for my hand, and I accepted.”

“Nope.” He took his wine and fled.

“What does that mean?” Sofia called after him.

“It means no, Soful. No, no, no, no, no…” The no trailed down the corridor and faded with his footsteps. But she could still hear it in her head, no, no, no…

Then she realized she didn’t get to speak to him about Grigori or ask him to be more reasonable with his deadline and ran after him. She also hadn’t talked to him about the stranger but that would be a long conversation, perhaps for another time.

“Lev!”

Niko had packed a leather valise and stuffed it under his bed with his cloak folded on top. Aleksei had spoken with him about leaving tonight, assumed Sofia, and pulled down the bed skirt to hide the bags when Isidor announced himself outside the prince’s door.

Niko was curled up on the bed, the scarlet eyes staring blankly. A sad child these days, he often cried himself to sleep, and Sofia couldn’t help remembering how much better he’d been doing when the queen was alive. Though she still didn’t understand how, Niko did kill his mother to save Aleksei, which she was infinitely grateful for. She didn’t want to disturb the prince and stepped out to see what Isidor wanted.

She closed the door gently behind her and stood in the corridor, clutching her hands in front of her. Servants lit the candles as the light grew scarce, and Sofia sat down on the red brocade settee along the wall when Isidor asked her to. The prince liked saints so much it was almost believable his father would be a Guard. An oil painting depicting the creation mythology hung on the opposite wall, God holding a wisp of light, the first ever soul.

Being polite, Sofia waited for Isidor to speak his mind as he was the one who’d approached.

“After Grigori is killed, my lord will be returning home, but he will be leaving men to tend to His Grace, and I volunteered.”

“Oh.”

“It was denied.”

“Oh.”

“So, I hope you like Bone Country because I’ll be taking you with me,” he said.

“Oh…” Sofia tried to think of a polite way of going about it. “I’m unavailable, I’m afraid.”

“You’re neither young nor virtuous, Lady Guard. I’d hoped you’d be gracious as I’ve given you a proper offer.”

“I am.” She blinked, trying to escape the most uncomfortable conversation she’d ever had with a stranger. “But you must ask Lev. He’s the head of the family now. My father is deceased.”

“That’s reasonable.” He rose. “Where is His Grace?”

“What? Now?” Sofia didn’t have a fan so she flapped her hand instead.

“Of course, now. I mean to have you tonight.”

Thank the saints she wouldn’t be here then. “I believe he was looking for the library. There are two at Raven and I don’t know which…”

He got up and marched away, but not before turning with a grin. “I’ll be back.”

She took that as a threat. Suddenly it didn’t feel like such a bright idea to have sent the three sentinels home. Now she had no one. She spoke with Lev about giving Aleksei more time to find Grigori because she hoped the situation could be resolved with fewer losses of lives. Lev being tsar regent wasn’t the worst of ideas because Niko was… Well, he corrupted gold. But that conversation soured quickly. Lev’s mood swung wildly and turned on a silver coin at the mention of the supposed necromancer. So many unbelievable things were happening at once—the stranger, Niko’s trouble with gold, tales of necromancy, Lev claiming tsar, Pulyazin invading Raven—at times it felt like a very long, tiring hallucination.

Not that it mattered but she didn’t believe Isidor’s affection was legitimate. The captain of the druzhina fancied he was having some type of rivalry with the captain of the sentinels and Sofia was a part of it. Aleksei didn’t care about Isidor and wouldn’t have known his name had he not threatened Sofia at the Red Manor, so the competition was in the druzhina’s head, but perhaps that was the most dangerous place for it to be.

Sofia returned to the prince’s room and lit the candles.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he whispered.

Sofia thought he was speaking in his sleep and turned, but he was staring at the dark corner of his room.

“Brighter lights make darker shadows, did you know?”

“It’ll be all right, Niko. Don’t worry so much.” Sofia smiled. “Do you want me to make you a tonic while we wait for Aleksei?”

“Lev is difficult to kill because he doesn’t cast a shadow, but you’re not like him. You’re not a Guard.”

“I look like my mother. She had dark curls.” Sofia sat down on the prince’s bed and ruffled his hair. “Lev is not a monster. He’s a human man who has a shadow. Even the archmage had a shadow.”

“No, different shadow.” Niko frowned. “I mean shadow art can’t touch a true Guard. But I can do this,” he said, and Sofia’s hand moved up against her will, and in the shadow cast on the wall, someone stood there holding her hand. She froze and couldn’t get up or run. Her scream was stifled by an unseen hand. “So you’re not a Guard.” The scarlet eyes flicked to her, appearing nearly black in the lack of light. “That’s too bad.” He sat up. “You keep asking, so I’ll tell you. This is how I killed the queen.” He pointed at the shadow. “When I tear that apart. You come apart. It doesn’t matter if you’re a watchman or a bull, your shadow weighs nothing.”

He got up and pulled out his bag and cloak from under the bed. “We have to go because Grigori told me to bring you. He’s under Raven. He’s been there the entire time. It’s too bad Lev didn’t look there. Monsters do hide in the dark.”

He put on his cloak, shouldered his leather bag, lit a lantern, and carried it, saying, “I can see in the dark, but I need the light for the shadow.”

Sofia said nothing. She was stunned. Her mind couldn’t comprehend the horror as she felt like a stranger in her own body, a flea in a horse’s mane taking a ride as she followed Niko behind a paper screen, the wall opening as the prince pressed on it.

“I didn’t put that there. It was just the way Raven was built, where some rooms have a secret passageway. The room looks small because of this.” He took her into the space between the walls and closed the door behind them. “I picked this room for this reason. Five other rooms in Raven do the same. The queen’s bedchamber is one. I would sometimes go there when the queen had Aleksei, to see if he was all right because it wasn’t the first time she hurt him.”

They walked through the dark, tight space, then descended a wooden ladder, winding and suffocating, till a sudden surge of cold air greeted them. They were under the castle.

Through a maze of corridors, Sofia mindlessly followed the prince, a hostage in her body as he took her through iron doors, each opening with the skeleton key the prince had.

“I killed Burkhard because he tried to take Eugene away. I should have let him leave, then he wouldn’t have died tonight. Grigori made me throw his life away. Eugene can’t kill Lev. Your brother is superior in every way. He’ll die trying, though, and that is what Grigori wants, for me to have no one.

“With this, I’ve betrayed Aleksei, though I love him so much. This is why the soulless are dangerous. We don’t have a will of our own, not when it conflicts with our maker’s. I’ve asked and asked the saints for light, so I didn’t have to do this. But they don’t listen. I’ve told you so.”

Through the twisting corridors, Sofia followed the prince. She fainted, came to, and found herself walking still. There was no escape. Even if she died, her heart burst from the terror, she’d continue ambling after the prince.

They climbed, ascended finally, and the door above them was already open. The cold air smelled of tobacco smoke and the stars twinkled in the clear sky.

Niko closed the hatch and locked it after they came out. A black coach drawn with six horses waited, and a tall man in a hooded cloak smoked pipe outside it. She recognized the driver as Vasily Apraksin, though he didn’t look too well with half his face terribly scarred from a burn.

“Oh, dear girl, you must be cold. Where are your manners, Niko?” The tall man had a calm, friendly voice, but as he removed his cloak and draped it over Sofia, she saw it was Grigori. Shamelessly, he still wore the white robe of a mage under it.

They climbed into the large coach. The shutters were closed, and Niko hung the lantern from a hook, the light rocking gently as the carriage moved to the knocking rhythm of the six horses at a canter.

“Grigori, I’m tired,” said Niko.

“Chain her then.” The smile never left Grigori. His pale blue eyes were large and haunting, jarring against his long dark hair and thick beard, but the smile made him warm, as though he was someone kind.

Niko put a collar around Sofia’s neck, the chain on it bolted to the floor. “Please don’t make him hurt you. I can’t help you.”

Sofia gasped as though emerging from the water and taking her first breath after drowning. She heaved and panted, reaching for the door.

“Please don’t do that,” Niko begged.

The door didn’t open but Sofia screamed and screamed, and after her voice cracked and throat turned sore, Grigori said, “Good, now you’ve gotten that out of you. But do that again and I’ll crush your voice box with the pommel of this sword.”

Sofia wheezed, fanning herself with both hands. Talking about necromancy, reading about dark alchemy, and looking at a necromancer and a soulless sitting across from her inside the coach she was chained to weren’t the same. The difference between this and Murmia was the incident at the church had been so unreal there was a chance it had been a dream, but this, she knew she was being kidnapped by a necromancer.

Where was the stranger when she needed him? Sofia manically pulled the door, rattling the handle and the latch but it didn’t open. It must be locked from the outside. But just as she thought of him, Sofia heard the stranger. “Give us a name.”

“Grigori.”

“Give us a name.”

“Grigori! Grigori!”

That wasn’t his name was the reason the stranger didn’t accept. Grigori didn’t hear the whispers and thought Sofia called him, and looked at her, his patience thinning at her antics, but Niko’s scarlet eyes had ballooned. His gaze swung between Sofia and Grigori.

“What is that?” he whispered, too soft for Grigori to have heard over the knocking of the hooves, the jingle of the tack, the slight squeaking of the wheels, and the groaning of the wooden boards, but Sofia had been looking straight at the prince and saw he’d heard the stranger. So it wasn’t only in her head. Of course not, she’d known that, but she had a way of denying things till they kidnapped her in the middle of the night.

“Grigori,” tested Sofia but the stranger was gone. The fear remained on Niko’s face, though. “What do you want with me?” she asked the necromancer.

As an answer, he smiled, then placed the bite of his wooden pipe into his mouth.