39. Res

Chapter thirty-nine

Reunions

Han

S till no word from Mila. As I walked back to my tent, I looked up at the city. Somewhere in there was my wife, possibly facing imprisonment and torture at the hands of Miroslav's sadistic followers. The tsar still wouldn't agree to let me go to her, nor would he send someone else. Wait, he cautioned me. Be patient. We can't spare the men right now, but once the time comes, we will find her.

I was done waiting. The tsar was ready to attack the city, and he still hadn't made a plan to rescue my wife. It was time to take matters into my own hands. I'd cover the scar on my face, strap my old bean-filled glove to my wrist, and tell the city guards that I was a resident of the city coming back to collect my wife. Tonight, one way or another, I would be with her again. Even if they refused to let me in, and I had to scale the city wall. Even if Borislav labeled me a deserter for it. I'd deal with those problems once my wife was safe.

I just had a few provisions to gather from my tent first.

I pushed aside the tent flap and stopped. A woman stood there, illuminated by lantern-light. She looked at me with wide eyes, biting her lip.

Mila.

It was Mila, in that stranger's body she'd taken on before she left.

I crossed the tent in two strides, and she was in my arms. "Milochka."

"Han." She breathed my name as I pulled her close.

"You're here." I couldn't believe it. I'd been planning to mount a rescue, but here she was waiting for me.

"I'm here." She took my face in her hands, her eyes filling with tears. "I thought you were dead."

"I'm not." I ran my hands over her body, searching for signs of injury. Her clothes were dirty and rumpled, but she seemed unharmed. "Fuck, Mila, I thought you were." I clutched her to my chest. She was whole. She was safe. She was alive.

"I heard Miroslav killed all the survivors from Barbezht." Her voice was muffled against me.

"Not all of us." I stroked her back. "I'm fine. Yakov is fine."

"Yakov?" She pulled back, looking into my face, her own streaked with tears. "Yakov is alive, too?"

"He is." I touched her cheek, needing to reassure myself this was real. "We're all safe." I kissed her, soft and slow, tasting the tears that covered her face. She was here. Really here.

I deepened the kiss, grabbing her face with both my hands, but she pulled back again and touched my iron hand.

"What's this?"

"A gift from the tsar. He gave me a command and had it made so I could join the men on the field." I showed her the gears, moving the fingers. "I can hold a pen and a sword, now."

"You fought?" Her brow knit together with concern.

I shrugged. "Just a couple times." No need to worry her. "But where have you been? We haven't heard from you in weeks. We heard Lord Ilya and Lady Heli were arrested, but…"

She looked away. "I was, too."

Borislav was wrong. She had been arrested with the baron. All my fears from the past months welled up again, and I held her tight. "Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine," she said, still not looking at me. "Some friends got me out, along with the barones."

I ran my hands over her body again. She was whole. She was safe. I took a deep breath, calming myself. "I'm glad you're back."

She nodded. "I—I should probably go see the tsar. He'll want my report on everything that happened in the past few weeks."

Reluctantly, I released her from my embrace and took her hand. "I'll take you to him."

She reached for her coat. "You don't have to come with me. I'm sure you need your sleep."

"I just got you back, Milochka." I kissed her hand. "I'm never letting you go again."

***

Mila

My heart was oddly calm as I followed Han through the camp to the tsar's tent. Shouldn't it have been pounding out of my chest? But the sight of him, alive and safe, didn't set me ablaze like I'd expected. I was relieved, of course, but not overwhelmed with joy and excitement.

Everything about this felt wrong.

We reached the tsar's tent in the middle of the camp, and Han stopped outside. "Ready?"

I nodded, and he opened the tent flap.

A small-eyed man stood in the middle of the tent. Not the tsar, though he had the high cheekbones and straight black hair of the Blood. Prince Radomir, perhaps? Lady Heli and Izolda were nowhere in sight.

Han bowed, and I noticed the tsar seated in a chair further back in the tent. He stood and smiled warmly at me.

"Mila Dmitrievna. I'm glad to see you returned."

A flash of shame filled me. He didn't know how much I'd endangered us all with my foolish actions.

Tsar Borislav turned to the other man in the tent. "Radomir, allow me to introduce Mila Dmitrievna, Han's wife and one of our primary informants in the capital. Mila Dmitrievna, my cousin, prince Radomir Demyanovich of the Blood."

The prince inclined his head. "Thank you for your work. You've been most instrumental in our successes thus far."

I bowed, but the twinge of guilt remained. "I apologize for not coming directly to you with Lady Heli," I said.

The tsar waved his hand. "I quite understand the desire to be reunited with your husband. And you're here now." He smiled warmly and gestured to the table in the middle of the tent. "Please, sit."

As we sat, the tsar leaned toward me. "My cousin and her maidservant already told me their perspectives, but I would like to hear what you saw when you escaped. What was the situation on the other side of the gates?"

I gave a brief summary of our escape, leaving out Alexey's name. I couldn't talk about him, couldn't even think about him without my throat closing up and tears threatening in my eyes.

When I finished, Han pressed a kiss to my hand. "I'm grateful for your friends," he said in a voice intended only for my ears.

I couldn't meet his eyes. Would he say the same if he ever found out what Alexey meant to me?

The tsar picked up a sketch of the palace grounds. "Do you remember where, exactly, this hidden door was?" When I pointed, he looked at the prince. "Perhaps we can compromise. We can dispense with breaking down the city gates, and I can lead a small group into the palace through this door. I'll confront my brother myself, to limit the bloodshed."

Radomir frowned. "Miroslav won't fight you. He knows you'll win. He'll surround himself with guards as he always does."

"He can try." The tsar's face was grim, his lips pressed together in a line.

Warning filled the prince's voice. "Using your Sanctioned Gifts against the unSanctioned is an abomination, Borislav."

It didn't sound like the first time they'd had this conversation. Before it could go further, though, Han cleared his throat. "How would you get into the city?"

"Draw them out," the tsar said. "They'll be focused on the main gate, on defending against the siege. We'll take a dozen men around the city in a boat, climb into the city here," he pointed to a spot on the map, "and travel to the hidden door from there." He traced the path with his finger. "Their focus will be on our attack from the land. They won't notice a small group coming from the sea."

"A few minor points," Prince Radomir said dryly. "First, and perhaps most important, you are the tsar. We can't risk you entering combat. Second," he went on as the tsar opened his mouth to respond, "once you reached the palace, Miroslav would have the entirety of the palace guard there to protect him. A dozen of our men against the hundred in the palace guard won't stand a chance."

"I agree with the tsar," Han said.

I stared at him. The two royals fell silent, looking at him as well.

"If there's a chance to limit the bloodshed, whatever the risk, I think we need to take it." He frowned, tapping his fingers like he always did when he was deep in thought. "A dozen men might be too few, but if we add to that number a dozen Drakra… I think it's worth the risk."

He'd changed since I'd been gone. The Han I'd married would never have been so bold. Would never have spoken so freely to royalty.

Tsar Borislav and Prince Radomir didn't seem to find anything strange in Han's behavior. The prince looked at his cousin. "It's an unacceptable risk. We can send the men, if you think it's necessary, but you cannot go with them."

"This is between me and my brother," the tsar said. "I have to face him."

"This is between Otets and His chosen Heir," the prince retorted.

"If Otets has chosen me to be His Heir, He will protect me. If I die, it will be clear He's chosen you."

They stared at each other, locked in a silent battle of wills. Finally, the prince loosed a breath. "This war isn't about you, Borislav, but if you choose to throw your life away on a fool's errand, I won't stop you."

"Good." The tsar picked up a bell and rang for a servant. "Mila Dmitrievna, you must be exhausted after your trials. I have need of your husband, still, but I'll return him to you as soon as possible." He smiled warmly at me. "Is there anything else you need for your stay here in the camp? I will have someone deliver fresh clothing to your husband's tent, of course."

I glanced down, my face heating. I was standing before a tsar in a sarafan that was stained and wrinkled from days in a dungeon. "Thank you, your majesty. I don't believe I'll need anything else."

Han clutched my hand tight in his. "I'm sure Mila could be of some help," he said. "There's no need to send her away."

"The lady has been trapped in my brother's dungeon for days, Han," the tsar said sternly. "I'm not so selfish as to deny her a full night's rest."

Han swallowed and nodded once. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Milochka." He took my hand and held it to his lips, closing his eyes. Then he glanced at the tsar. "Would you change her back to her own body now, your majesty?"

My breath caught. I'd grown comfortable in this body, living as Sofia. I'd known it would have to change once I returned home, but was I ready for that yet?

"Later." The tsar had already turned away. "For now, you can remain the seamstress. Once the battle is over, I'll return you to your own body, Mila Dmitrievna."

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least I would have a day or two to prepare myself. "I'll bid you goodnight, then, your majesty."

I squeezed Han's hand and let it go. He caught my eye and mouthed, I love you. I gave him a tight-lipped smile in return, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words back to him.