Serpent and the Throne (Fedosian Wars #1)

27. Until Then

twenty-seven

Until Then

Aleksei’s right arm was broken in three places, the left in two, as well as twenty of his twenty-four ribs, his hip, right femur, collarbone, right eye socket, jaw, and skull fractured. Everything broken, torn, bruised, strained, or dislocated, he was held together by steel splints. He woke up but couldn’t speak or move.

Niko had allotted Sofia a room that wasn’t in the dungeon or the tower, but she noticed how much Aleksei hated being handled by the valets, strangers essentially, and began staying with him. She’d assumed the men were being too rough and asked Niko to get Aleksei maids instead, which the prince did, but that didn’t help. She would think the women were doing something wrong to aggravate him because he’d get visibly upset, the jugulars pulsing into his temple, and would clench up, but the reaction was the same even when it was her.

Little by little, they had to get used to each other again.

‘Aleksei, they need to change the linen, so he’s going to lift you, all right?’

‘This is the new physician Eugene recommended. His name is Baltar, and he’s going to examine you.’

‘Are you all right lying on this side? Do you want to be turned?’

Small things made a difference in how anxious he got, like explaining what the puree was before someone shoved a spoon into his mouth, and Sofia would make sure it was being done. Unlike the White Palace or even the Illeivich estate, the servants here didn’t talk much and kept their heads down, rushing through their tasks. They also didn’t perform them very well unless someone threatened to kill them—it was a bad habit they’d nurtured at Raven.

Having others bathe him was so stressful for Aleksei that after a few tries, she dismissed the maids and managed herself. He didn’t used to be like this, flinching at anything anyone did. It was the helplessness, but also the queen’s brutality.

The weeks turned to months, and the lush summer green outside the windows shifted slowly to auburn and marigold. The evergreen garden gifted to the throne by the archmage went with the weather as well because Viktor Guard was dead, a thing Sofia was yet to address, but she kept herself busy instead. There were only questions that way, no answers.

As Aleksei’s swelling went down and became bruises, both of his eyes were beautifully scarlet, and they would catch the natural light when she opened the curtains in the morning. Perhaps it was his voice box still healing or maybe it was his jaw being wired shut, but he didn’t speak to her, didn’t even try.

The prince promoted a sentinel called Dominik to acting captain as unrest stirred within Krakova following the news of the queen’s death, natural death—she’d passed gracefully in her sleep in the most dignified way possible, and her funeral was grand, Sofia heard. She didn’t attend. The queen’s corpse had been put in an incinerator and scorched to nothing long before there was a funeral, as was the Fedosian way.

Sofia had asked how Niko killed the queen, and his answer had been, ‘I don’t know.’ He didn’t wish to talk about it, at least not with her, but about his drowning incident when he was a child, he said, ‘I almost died. It was very scary. I floated downstream and was lost in the woods for days. I try to stay away from rivers now. I’m not a good swimmer.’ Sofia had guessed as much. Niko hadn’t died. He wasn’t brought back. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. Aleksei had just been distraught because he’d been a child too.

The monarch’s passing left a prince not of age to rule, and the Fedosian throne became empty, but her landmass was immense, and the news took time to travel. A storm brewed for certain, but in the meantime, Sofia didn’t mind making Raven her new home, humming in the morning and walking barefoot as she used to at White Palace. Also, she began managing the servants, assigning herself a governess in essence, to improve their performance—not with threats but with reassurances no one was going to lose their heads over household duties. Though serfdom had been abolished for some decades, commoners were impoverished and sold themselves or their children to lords, which meant they needed to earn back the advance, making them serfs. Every food they ate, each clothing they received, incurred more debt, keeping them in servitude forever.

So like this, she’d spent three months without leaving Raven, including the month she’d been a prisoner in the tower, and was reading by candlelight when the physician visited after midnight.

Because Aleksei hadn’t lived at Raven, he didn’t have a bedroom, and when Niko allocated him one, Sofia had insisted it be on the ‘Guard’ side of the castle. So in style with the last Guard tsar of Fedosia, the room had white and powder blue walls with flower patterns and paintings of evergreen trees, a gold chandelier, and a canopy bed with white curtains. Shields were a dire bunch, and she found the dark pallet dismal.

“Hello, Baltar.” Sofia acknowledged the old man who looked like Baba Yaga’s brother with a tall thin nose, a bent back, and a long black robe. She’d been behind the writing table and got up.

But for the fireplace and the candle on her table, the room was dark because Aleksei was asleep, and she wasn’t so thrilled about the late night visit.

“Hello, Lady Sofia,” the old man greeted, and went to the washing table to clean his hands. “Forgive the late intrusion, but I have many clients as you can imagine with the capital being in disarray. Some brutes robbed Nadezda Korchinska’s estate and beat her badly. I spent the day there.”

“That’s terrible,” remarked Sofia, remembering the baroness who adored the archmage. On her front steps, the archmage had turned into a ‘monster’ and scared Aleksei’s horse. “Is she all right?”

“She’s dead,” said Baltar. “Fracture to the skull. She was quite old.”

“Oh.”

“Had I been young, I imagine I would have joined the city patrol.” Baltar smiled as he wiped his hands. “They are making a fortune protecting wealthy estates. Anyway, Lord Durnov isn’t well. Though I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do for him, I owe him the courtesy of my visit, so I’ll be journeying tomorrow, and thought to finish with Aleksei tonight.” He lit more candles for light and spoke as he rolled out the hemp bag he carried, the tools inside resembling torture devices more than instruments for healing. “Seven puppeteers dead and the lord was the last to fall ill. I reckon his ailment will be magical in nature, some type of trap Pyotr Guard set. I hear the Durnov machines broke through White Palace defenses, is that right?”

“Yes.” Sofia frowned.

“Live alchemy was involved?” he asked.

“Yes, a living garden with a Custodian,” Sofia said.

“I bet you it’s going to be the Custodian.” Baltar rubbed his hands excitedly. “I’m writing a book about curses, and I’m very keen to unravel the curious case of Lord Durnov. He’s mummifying alive, I heard. Pyotr always had a good sense of humor. Good man, your Papa.”

That sounded rather horrifying, and Sofia asked, “How do you curse someone?” No matter how many volumes of the light codices she read, such knowledge wouldn’t be shared—those were written in the language of spells.

“Well, technically it’s not a curse, because no such thing in light alchemy. It’s a spell, rather, which would require consent, but your house is infamous for playing around with it. It’s only a guess, but it may have been set up that by destroying the Custodian, you are consenting to the mummification. It’s a trade. Your life for the Custodian. Brilliant, really.”

Sofia had never heard of consent by action. She thought it had to be explicit and shuddered at the implication. Also, the alchemy was so beyond her that she couldn’t wrap her head around it. She was grateful Aleksei hadn’t been inside the Custodian.

He was on numerous sedatives and their conversation hadn’t woken him. She went to his bed, sat down on the edge, and called his name several times, waiting for him to wake up before touching him. She didn’t want to frighten him. Familiar with the process, Baltar waited. Scarlet eyes finally opened, and Aleksei frowned.

“Baltar is here. He’s going to examine you,” Sofia said, then gently brushed his midnight crown.

“He’s going to remove your splints,” said Baltar. “This is called the syringe.” He showed an instrument with a sharp end. “I’m going to administer a numbing agent into your spine, so you don’t feel pain when I remove the steel. When the medicine wears off, you will feel the ache for a few days. I’m going to leave tonic for that with the beautiful Sofia. Keep to the regiment I prescribe, and you’ll be on your feet in no time, all right?”

Baltar had come recommended by Eugene, so Sofia trusted the old man when he stuck the sharp end of the instrument into Aleksei’s back. The whole procedure of removing the metal frames holding him together took about an hour and at the end of it, he gave Sofia numerous packets of herbs and the instructions to brew tonic, cleaned his instruments, tipped an imaginary hat, and left.

Sofia couldn’t complete a single transmutation, but she’d gotten the hang of potions rather quickly. She brewed the tonic for subduing pain, left the concoction to steep, went to Aleksei to check on him, and found him awake.

She sat bedside on a wooden stool she’d placed there and took his hand. She flexed his fingers back, then pressed them down into a fist. Starting from his hand, she did various exercises daily to help him move so he didn’t grow stiff, and asked, “Does this hurt?” as she always did.

“No.”

He surprised her. It’d been so long since he spoke to her, and though she’d asked a question, she hadn’t expected an answer and was scared and excited at once at what he might say—mostly fearful, though.

Gently, she rotated his wrist, then moved onto the elbow, folding and stretching his arm. “Do you want to turn?” she asked.

“Why are you so kind to me?” he asked. “I killed your father and burned down your home. I pursued Lev across the country. The only reason he lives is because he’s a better rider than me.”

“Did you do so on your own accord?” she asked. Though their houses were at war, she didn’t consider Aleksei or Niko her enemy. The real villains were dead, the queen and the archmage. Niko had sent Lev an envoy requesting negotiation, and she was hopeful peace would be restored soon.

“I do what I’m told. I’m a sentinel,” said Aleksei.

“Right.” Sofia got up from the stool and sat on the bed. She ran her fingers through his dark locks. He’d grown used to her touch and didn’t mind it too much. “Do you know me?”

“I saw you at the White Palace on the day it fell,” he said.

“Before that?” she asked

“The portrait of Lady Yelizaveta.”

“Here’s the thing, Aleksei,” she said. She’d saved it for when they could have a conversation. “We know each other intimately. You’ve confessed to me things you’d tell no other, like how you thought you drowned Niko.” Aware she was coming on strong, she watched his eyes widen in surprise, but she had no desire to start at, ‘Hello, I’m Sofia.’ What the archmage took, she meant to claim back. “When you saw me in the piano room, what did you think?” she pressed. She wasn’t a stranger. If nothing else, she’d been caring for him for months now.

Silent a while, then he said, “That I love you.” He’d always been so direct, honest, vulnerable, and that hadn’t changed. “I saw you and I thought I loved you.”

Sofia sagged with relief. This was what she’d hoped for and dreamed of. She spoke till the deep of the night, telling him the story of their love—and love it was. At the end of it, the tonic was ready, and she went to fetch it for him.

The numbing effect of the injection hadn’t worn off and Aleksei couldn’t sit up. Sofia propped his head up on a pillow so he could swallow the brew she’d measured in a little vial. Then she went to stoke the fire. The fall was rainy, and the night was chilly. When she returned, she didn’t go to the little bed she’d been sleeping on but lay down next to Aleksei after snuffing the candles and kicking off her slippers. It would be a while before she could touch him the way she used to, for not only his body, but his mind was yet to heal from the queen’s assault.

When he wished to, he’d speak to her about what happened, till then she’d let him fall asleep next to her, taking deep untroubled breaths.