44. ution

Chapter forty-four

Execution

Han

I stared at Borislav through the iron bars of the cell. "Please, reconsider. You made the wrong choice—many wrong choices—but you don't have to die for it. Radomir respects you. He would give you a position of honor, listen to your counsel. You can still lead this tsardom, even if you don't wear the crown."

"Whether I die tomorrow or not, he'll have to kill me eventually." He didn't look at me from his seat next to the tiny window. "Radomir is no fool. My claim is stronger than his. He knows that if I remain alive, I can become a focal point for future rebellion. Oh, yes," he said before I could contradict him, "legally, if I accept my Disinheritance, I can make no future claim on the throne, but what does the common man care for the finer points of religious doctrine? Radomir is unpopular, and I was their chosen tsar. I was your chosen tsar."

"You were my tsar until you betrayed your people. You turned your Gifts against unSanctioned. You attacked citizens, nobles in your court." He opened his mouth to answer, but I cut him off. "And before that, you betrayed your army. Matvey Il'ich deserved mercy. Maybe he deserved to die for his betrayal, maybe not, but he still deserved mercy, and you had him slaughtered like an animal. Worse than an animal. And the men who had flocked to your cause, believing you would set the country to rights, you betrayed them, too. When their families were threatened, when they were afraid of the consequences of their actions and tried to return home, you didn't offer them the reassurances they so desperately needed. You murdered them. And you agreed to sell your people, men who had done nothing but fight for what they thought was right, into slavery. You became no better than the man you were trying to overthrow."

I paused, taking a breath. "If you had shown mercy in just one of those instances, you might have been able to hold our trust. But every opportunity you had to show kindness, you insisted on showing strength. You're no better than your brother was."

"I'm not the only one who betrayed the trust of our people, Han." He turned to me, his eyes cold. "Do you think the people will respect you when they learn the agreement you made with the Drakra? The heathen creatures from the mountains, unleashed by you on their lands. And you gave them free rein to take slaves from among our people. Do you think they will remember that I gave that order? Or will they blame you when their brothers, their fathers, their sons are forced to serve for years under those pagans, tortured and brutalized with unholy magic?"

My stomach clenched, but I shook my head. I couldn't allow myself to be baited. I hadn't made that decision. I'd followed orders, done what I thought was right. I could do my best to mitigate the effects of my actions, but I couldn't regret what I'd done.

"This is why you'll never be tsar, Borislav." My voice was quiet but firm.

"Otets will judge between us."

I turned away. "Make your peace with Him tonight. Your execution is scheduled for dawn."

My heart weighed like a stone in my chest as I left the dungeons. I hardly noticed the guards saluting as I passed. Mila. I needed to see Mila.

I found her in our room in the palace, writing something. She didn't look up at my entrance. Her eyes were trained on the paper, and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. I watched her in silence. How could she be so strange and so familiar at the same time?

She'd be back in her old body in the morning. I'd almost forgotten. Borislav had told her the spell would last until he removed it…or he died.

She flinched when she caught sight of me. It wrenched at my heart, seeing the fear and betrayal on her face, but we would heal. She would realize that everything I did, I did for her. She'd understand that I had no other choice.

I wrapped my arms around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm glad you're here with me, dorogusha."

She tried to pull away, but I held her tight to me. She was mine, and I was never letting her go.

*****

I woke in the early morning darkness. Mila lay in my arms; even in sleep, I held her close, though she faced away from me.

But I had an execution to attend now. I extracted my arm from beneath her, careful not to wake her. She didn't need to see Borislav's death. She'd seen enough carnage to last a lifetime.

The day was relatively warm, hinting at the coming spring, though gray clouds covered the sky. Despite my heavy fur coat, I shivered. The air felt oppressive, like Otets was angry.

I shook off the thought. I'd done what I had to do. Otets knew that. This execution was merely justice being served.

I found Radomir waiting in the small, enclosed yard behind the palace dungeons. "Captain." The new tsar nodded a greeting as I approached.

"Your majesty." Strange, to think of Radomir as the tsar, after knowing him for so many months as prince.

A raised platform stood in the center of the yard, a discolored block of wood in the center. The yard was empty except for me, the tsar, and a couple other commanders. Radomir had insisted on a private execution. "The death of a tsar is nothing to be gawked at," he'd said.

Two guards led Borislav out of the prison and onto the platform. The executioner followed, his ax by his side.

Borislav knelt before the block without prompting. He wore a simple linen shirt and black pants, and he shivered with the cold, though his expression held disdain.

Radomir approached the platform. "Even now, you can repent, cousin. Accept your Disinheritance, and I will spare your life."

Borislav merely looked at him, unspeaking.

He pursed his lips. "If you have any last words, now is the time."

"Otets will condemn you for this." Borislav's voice came out calm and clear. Venom filled his eyes. "All of you."

The executioner approached, taking the ax in hand. "When you are prepared, place your head on the block."

The two cousins stared into each other's eyes, unblinking. Borislav laid his head down on the block without breaking eye contact, and the executioner swung the ax.

***

Mila

I woke with a jolt. Sitting up, I looked around the room. What had woken me? Han was gone, and the dim light coming through the window told me it was only dawn.

As I swung my feet over the side of the bed, I paused. My skin was lighter, a tawny brown that was new and familiar all at once. I touched my hair—long and straight, no longer the tight, textured curls I'd become accustomed to.

Borislav was dead.

Prince Radomir—Tsar Radomir—had had him executed. After all we'd sacrificed to bring Borislav to the throne, he was dead.

He'd earned his death. Still, we'd given up so much for him, only to see his cousin on the throne instead. Borislav wasn't right for the tsardom, but would Radomir be any better?

And with Borislav's death, Sofia died, too. The woman I'd been for half a year, the name and body I'd worn, was dead. I'd more than taken Sofia's body; I'd become a whole new person at court.

I dressed quickly, slipping on my shoes. They were loose. All my clothes were, but they'd have to do. Izolda would be with her mother in the trade quarters, where the Drakra had been housed following the battle. I needed to talk to my friend.

If Izolda was still my friend. She'd been Sofia's friend, but Sofia was well and truly dead now. How would Izolda feel about the sudden change?

I stopped at the door, heart pounding. It was closed. What if Han had locked me in here again? I couldn't bear that. Not again. I didn't know what I would do if he'd trapped me in here like he had when he went to face Borislav.

I put a hand to the latch and pulled. It swung open, and a wave of relief crashed over me. I was free.

Two gray-skinned Drakra women stood at the entrance to the trade quarters, fur coats draped over their shoulders. They held their spears upright and watched me as I approached.

"I'm looking for Izolda. Izolda…na Xhela?" That was her Drakra name, right? She'd told me once.

One of the women disappeared into the building. She returned with Izolda.

"Can I help you?" my friend asked.

I bit my lip. "Can I speak with you privately?"

She nodded, her brow knit together, and walked with me in the direction of the gardens. "I don't believe we've met before."

I took a deep breath. "It's me. Sofia."

She stared. A grin split across her face. "Fia! Or should I bow and use your full name now? Spider's Blood, I didn't even think about you getting your old body back. Is it weird?"

I could have wept with relief at the normalcy in her tone. "You have no idea. And my name's Mila. If you bow, I might vomit." I looped my arm through hers.

"But your scarred stud is Han Antonovich, the Survivor of Barbezht, right? You're practically married to royalty!"

I cringed. Han was the last thing I wanted to think about right now. "If you start calling me Lyudmila Dmitrievna, wife of the Survivor of Barbezht, I'll have to start calling you Izolda na Xhela, daughter of the Mandible."

She groaned. "Please don't. I get enough of that from them." She jerked her thumb in the direction of the Drakra quarters. "I think I'll still call you Fia, if that's okay. It suits you."

A rush of warmth spread through me. "Please do. I feel like…" I sighed. "I think I wasn't ready to give up being Sofia. The last time I was me—the last time I was Mila, I mean—I was so broken. Being Sofia helped me heal somehow. And then everything got so complicated with Alexey, and we left, and I don't even know who I am anymore."

We'd reached the gardens. She stopped next to a snow-covered shrub and gave me a look that was half amusement, half exasperation. "You have a real penchant for drama, you know?"

I blinked at her, stunned. Whatever I'd been expecting her to say, that wasn't it. "What?"

"You're still you, you idiot. You were you when you were Mila, you were you when you were Sofia, and you're still you now." She sighed heavily. "It doesn't matter what body you're in or who you're with. Yes, being at court changed you. People change; it's what we do. But you didn't become another person entirely. You just need to find out what you want now."

"What if I don't know what that is?"

I might have, once. At one time, I would have gone through anything to come back to Han. I'd chosen him, despite his injury, despite my family's objections, despite his status as traitor. But something had changed in those months we were apart. He'd changed. And I had. When I'd discovered he was alive, my first reaction hadn't been joy—it had been dread. Dread for what it meant for me and Alexey.

And now he'd broken my trust. After so many months apart, after all I'd faced for him, for us, when it mattered most, he'd left me locked in that room. He'd gone to face Borislav without me, imprisoning me. He'd treated me like a child.

"I think you do," Izolda said softly.

My eyes flashed to her face and away. "And what if I do, but I can't have it?"

"Why not?"

I brushed snow from a bench and sat. "He doesn't want me anymore." If he did, he would have let me help him, let me free him somehow.

"Are we talking about Alexey, or your captain?"

"Alexey." Whatever had been between me and Han was broken. Perhaps forever. "He told me to go back to my husband."

Izolda laughed, the sound irreverent and strangely comforting. "He's an idiot. A well-meaning idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. He's trying to protect you."

"He wouldn't let me try to get him released. Even when I told him I could talk to Han…"

"Can you blame him? If you found out he was married, would you want any help from his wife?"

The thought of Alexey with another woman was a fist around my heart. "No. I'd hate her."

"You understand how he feels, then." She took a seat next to me. "Does your husband know?"

I gave a hollow laugh. "How do you think that would go over? ‘Oh, by the way, I fell in love while I was gone. He was fighting for Miroslav and got captured, so I'll never see him again, but I thought you should know anyway.'" I shook my head. "Han doesn't know anything about Alexey, and he never will."

"Eight years isn't forever."

"Feels like it." It probably felt longer to Alexey.

"You know," she said after a minute, "my mother asked me to go back east with her. I was thinking about saying yes. I don't know how much I'll be able to do for him, but I can at least be there. If nothing else, he'll need a friend."

"You would do that?"

She nudged me with her elbow. "As I said, I was thinking about going already. I'm not in love with him, but I do care for him."

I nodded absently, my mind swirling. "Do you know when you'll leave?"

She shrugged. "Probably in a day or two. I think the high priestess has some things to work out with the new tsar, but she's anxious to get home before the snow thaws." She patted my leg. "I need to get back. I'll write when we get there, da?"

"Find me before you leave. I want to say a proper goodbye." I hugged her. "I wasn't sure we'd still be friends now that I'm me again. I'm glad we are."

She pulled back and shook her head, lips pressed together with exasperated amusement. "I told you before, I'm not your friend because I knew the old Sofia. I'm your friend because of you. And as I said, you never changed who you were." She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, now you have me spouting cliches. Go on, I'm sure you've got your scarred stud waiting to see the old you."

I swallowed hard. I did need to find Han.

"Well, try not to look so excited about it." She laughed. "I'll see you later, Fia."

As she left, I stood. I wasn't ready to go back to Han. Not yet. I wandered slowly to the palace. Izolda was right; I wasn't a completely different person, not really. But I wasn't the same, either. Could I become the person I was before?

Han had changed while I was gone. He was more sure of himself, more confident. A leader, not just of our small group of servants and tenants, but a real leader now. People looked up to him, respected him. By the Blood, the tsar respected him.

Not all his changes were good, though. He didn't trust me anymore. Didn't see me as an equal. He'd grown possessive, controlling.

But hadn't I earned his distrust? I'd lied to him, left him, and done things while I was gone that would tear his heart in two. I'd fallen in love with someone else.

What would that mean for our marriage? In some ways, Alexey knew me better than Han did. In the brief months I'd known him, he'd seen what I tried so hard to keep hidden, how broken I was. He'd seen my walls and broken them down, stone by stone. He'd helped me put myself back together, even while I used him.

Han and I had been through so much together. His recovery after Barbezht, the years of struggling to make ends meet, the joy and anticipation of the birth of our son.

He would never be Alexey. He could never fill the hole in my heart that Alexey left. But Alexey wasn't here anymore. He'd told me to go home, told me to be happy. After all I'd done to him, to both of them, I owed it to them both to do that. I couldn't walk away from my husband to chase an unattainable dream.

Han had broken my trust, but I'd broken his, as well. Maybe we could heal from that betrayal. Maybe we could find a way to come back from this war. Together.

I was back at the room before I realized it. I pushed open the door, and Han was there. His eyes swept over my body, drinking me in, and I was in his arms, his lips on mine.

"Mila," he said. My name. Not a stranger's. "Mila."

"I'm back," I whispered. "I'm home."