9. Trouble Yourself No Longer

Aesylt hesitated in the doorway of her brother's office. It was the same room it had always been, since the days of their father, their grandfather... For nearly a decade, she'd sat in the tall thorny chair of her Wynter ancestors herself, wondering if Drazhan was ever coming back or if fate had consigned her to take his place.

Nothing had changed. Nothing except her.

From the furrowing pass of her brother's stony gaze as she made her way inside, he knew it too.

"You wanted to see me?" She took another step but held close to the door. Outside, four guards waited to escort her back to her apartments—her new, "upgraded" prison. Her own living quarters were bigger than the scholar's, and they wanted her to be comfortable in her confinement, seeing as it wasn't ending anytime soon. So said Imryll, who had only been grudgingly parroting Drazhan's despotic orders, for no one's benefit.

"Come in, cub." Drazhan was seated. He rarely sat at his desk. Even in meetings he was prone to pace, or hover in a corner and scowl.

"You're making me nervous, wulf." Aesylt fingered her mother's sapphire necklace resting against her heart. Val had the matching one... At least, he had when he'd entered the forest. It could be anywhere. It might even have been the symbol his family had needed to condemn her.

"Close the door."

When she planted herself in prideful indignation—sometimes it felt like it was all she had left of herself—he waved a hand, and a guard did it instead.

"Aes, sit. Please."

It was the please that did it. Aesylt flopped onto the chair with a hotheaded slump that instantly made her feel idiotic. Correcting it would have been worse, so she shrugged and waited.

His quick grimace was ripe with disappointment, but he shifted forward, clasping his hands over the desk, and looked straight at her. "Tomorrow is the village apology and Marek's surrender. It?—"

"Won't be happening. Let me save you a visit to the soothsayers," Aesylt quipped with an unladylike snort.

"Of course not." Drazhan sat back. "It was never going to happen."

Aesylt's smug grin faded. "Then why propose it at all?"

"So all the Vjestik, all the village, can see I have acted fairly and reasonably. Another leader would already have Marek's head greeting visitors as they ride into town."

"No, you're not known for your reasonableness, are you?" The vitriol in her tone cut the pain of his unintentionally thoughtless words. The visualization of heads on pikes brought forth one image and one image only.

Drazhan's expression softened. "I will never be that kind of leader, cub. It's not who I am—who we are. I can feel Marek at the end of my bare hands, dying the same death he tried to offer you. I can taste it. I dream of it." His hands clenched at his sides as he forced calm upon himself. "But the Barynovs will not let this go. Whether they truly believe..." He shook his head in disgust. "Doesn't matter to me what they believe. They'd let our entire world burn to make a point. And I can't let it happen."

Aesylt crossed her arms, thinking. "Why... Drazhan, why do you think they want to blame me so badly? I understand the confusion, the not understanding, the shame, but... There has to be a bigger reason. Doesn't there?"

Drazhan pursed his mouth. He glanced to the side. "Before Valerian left, Esker came to see me a few times about a betrothal between you and Valerian." He cleared his throat. "I refused."

Aesylt scoffed. "That's not a secret. And how many betrothals has it been that you've turned down on my behalf?"

"Eight. Maybe nine. None of them even half-fit to share home and hearth with you." Drazhan breathed deep. "But after speaking with Esker last night, I believe I understand their... campaign better."

"You spoke with him again last night?"

"Mm. It's why I had the guards take you home through the forest path. His men were waiting for our meeting to conclude."

Aesylt's pulse raced. Something was wrong. Drazhan never took his time. He said what he needed to say. "Out with it, whatever it is."

Drazhan leaned in again. "Tell me it isn't true that you agreed to wed Valerian before he left for the forest."

She slid her hands onto her lap with a slow inhale. Her brother's stare burned her as he waited for her to either confess or lie. But she had a question of her own first. "How could they possibly know what was or was not said between Val and me before he went into the forest if he has not regained consciousness?"

Drazhan scraped his finger against his stubble. "It seems Marek met him on the path after he left you."

Aesylt had to restrain herself from leaping out of her chair. "Then I was not the last person to see Val!"

Drazhan's neck bulged. "Valerian told his brother two things. Two significant things. The first was that the two of you would be..." He rolled his hands with an annoyed twist of his lips. "Wed, should he return. The second was that you had taken him..." He opened his mouth wide on exhale. "Into the fucking celestial realm before you said good-bye. And that, little sostra, is why they've waged this smear against you."

Aesylt's jaw went slack. Her tongue dried upon the back of her speechlessness. "Draz, I?—"

His hand came down on the desk as he leaned in. "We don't lie to each other, Aesylt. Don't start now."

She settled on her chair. Her eyes closed. She hadn't planned to lie, just explain herself. But her brother wouldn't care what her reasons were. In his mind, there were none big enough for her to return to a place he believed might one day be the end of her. "Both things are true, wulf. And if you actually care why, I will be happy to explain."

His eyes rolled as his hands came up, looping over his head. "Oh, cub. I know why. You thought you were helping. When a man stares death in the eye, he needs a reason to break his gaze. You gave him one."

Aesylt lowered her gaze. To hear her justifications spoken back to her, so lightly, enfeebled them. She wished the earth would rise and swallow her. "I thought I was doing the right thing, wulf."

"Right. Wrong. The Barynovs aren't concerned with either. These accusations, these tensions... They were diversions. For this." He waved at her. "For you."

"The betrothal?"

He nodded. "And now, Esker claims he will accept nothing less than my blessing."

"Or..." Aesylt swallowed. "Or what?"

Drazhan didn't answer. He glanced at the portrait of their father. "I don't want you to worry about this. I only needed to know whether it was true, and you've confirmed it."

"They commit a treasonable act and accuse me of being a koldyna, and they think you'd relent? It makes next to no sense, Draz. So does anyone believing me capable of it."

"Oma was a quarter Medvedev. They may be known as peaceful druids, but their magic isn't well understood in the kingdom. Easy to exploit that lack of information, to point to your blood to make their claim. After all, who else among us can starwalk?"

"But no one ever said a foul word against Oma when she was alive."

"Because it's a shite excuse to make their play. They don't need everyone to believe them to start a civil war. A few will do. There have already been pockets of riots. Not everyone is happy with a Wynter in this seat."

Aesylt's mind was racing. Marek had seen and spoken with Val after he'd left her, but it didn't make sense. Val had kept her secrets for years, so what could have caused him to tell his brother her biggest one? The betrothal she could almost understand, but to share with Marek that Aesylt had taken him to a place forbidden? When Val and his brother had never been close? It didn't add up. "What now?"

"I'm not selling you to the fucking Barynovs, if that's what you're asking." He rustled through a stack of documents on his desk before shoving it all aside. "And Marek is a dead man already, he just doesn't know it yet. Esker might be right behind him."

"Val may never... may never wake up anyway," she countered. "Maybe we should agree, knowing it won't ever?—"

"Never, cub. We don't negotiate with seditionists. We deal with them. Decisively." Drazhan lowered his head with a hard laugh. "Though, Esker has graciously informed me that in the event his youngest son doesn't make it, his eldest will do."

Aesylt's hand shot to her neck. Drazhan followed it with a dark look. "Marek? No. No, no, no."

"No," Drazhan stated. "That's what's next. No." He lifted to his feet with a weighty sigh, dropping himself over the desk with a glance at her. "As long as you're behind a locked door when the sun sets, then you're..." He sucked his teeth. "Free to move about the grounds during the day. The grounds only, and no wandering off where no guards can't see you. At night, if nothing has gotten worse, I'll approve more trips for you and the scholar to the observatory. Is that a fair compromise?"

Aesylt's heart sank and soared in concert. "Yes."

"Good. Cub... practice restraint. Do your experiments. Try not to kill the poor scholar. And trust me to handle the matters of our house."

Aesylt didn't havea destination in mind when she left her brother's office, but her feet carried her to the rear courtyard and the row of barns. They were all occupied with horses and mules except the last one, used for storing tack that had fallen into disrepair. Others in the kingdom might have discarded such leftovers, but the Vjestik let nothing go to waste. It wasn't uncommon for someone to show up asking if they had any leather scraps or metal tines to spare.

She'd always chosen the end barn because it was quiet. Cobwebs and old board creaks revealed how seldom anyone ventured inside. As a girl, she'd sit on the old saw table, leave the barn doors cracked, and watch the men banter before they rode off to attend to their business. They'd occasionally spot her, but no one minded a precocious girl running around. None foresaw the day when that same precocious girl would take all she'd learned and run the Cross for years in her brother's absence.

It was the one thing she needed to say to Drazhan but couldn't: I do know how to do this job because I did it. For years. While you were out grinding your jaw and dulling your sword on other men, I kept the fires burning. Neutering me now may assuage your conscience, but it re-opens a very deep wound in me.

Aesylt sighed and climbed up onto the table, her legs swinging under her heavy woolen gown. The courtyard was empty beyond the guards lining the perimeter with stoic, forward stares. There were no conversations to eavesdrop upon nor swordplay to study—only the enveloping silence of fresh morning snow.

Her hands traveled back to her neck, and the memory of Marek's meaty fists... the rough dig of his thumbs. In a proper fight, she might have stood a chance. He was a large man, but she was quick on her feet and fast with a sharpsword, trained by some of the best warriors in the north. But the moment he got his hands on her, there'd been no recourse. She'd never know if Niklaus had saved her or if Marek would have returned to his senses. She'd never know how close she'd been to death. None of her celestial deaths had prepared her for the confusion of one in her world.

Motion in the barn next to hers disrupted her daze. She stilled to listen, but the yelling was easy enough to make out.

As were, she realized, straightening, the voices.

"You're not listening to me! You always... You've always been like this, looking down at me over your little spectacles like I'm a child."

Tasmin.

Aesylt carefully slid off the table, readying to leave. She shouldn't be hearing what was obviously meant to be a private exchange, but as she angled her body through the small gap in the doors, another voice paused her escape.

"That's simply not true, Tas." Slow, patient delivery. "I love you. And I respect our bond too much to say nothing."

And the scholar.

"And what would you know about love, Adrahn?"

"Enough. Enough to be confident in my words today."

Aesylt froze in the gap. She'd inadvertently intruded on a lover's quarrel. Or the end of one. Whatever they'd been talking about, the conversation hadn't started in the barn.

"I'm leaving either way. You can support me or you can shun me, but if you truly love me, you'll understand why I need to go. Some things are bigger than ourselves." Tasmin's voice was laden with sadness. "Of everyone, Rahn... You know me best in all the world."

"I have tried reason, Tasmin, and it hasn't worked. Begging... I cannot. You will do as you believe is best, but I will not pretend. I will not smile and wave as you ride off to a man who is beneath you."

"Then stand alone. Seems to be the way you like it anyway," Tasmin retorted and stormed from the barn.

Aesylt watched her friend march across the flagstones. A dangerous lump formed in the center of her throat. Waves of pinpricks danced along her skin as her belly turned with angst, unnecessary pain seeping in. It shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't. She'd rationalized her inappropriate feelings for the scholar by reminding herself that love and respect were spokes on the same wheel. That she was simply confused. Even her suggestion for them to partner on the illicit curricula had been a challenge, to prove to herself she could leave emotion out of work, like a proper woman of science.

But this... the burn behind her eyes... the twisting ache in her gut... She wanted none of it.

You're a wulf. Act like it.

Aesylt adjusted her furs tighter against her face and left the shelter of the barn. She didn't look back, but the moment she exited, she knew she was being watched, and by whom.

"Ah, Aesylt. I'm so sorry. You heard that?" When she said nothing, he continued in a rush. "I thought the barns would be more private." Rahn sighed, starting after her. "But I was hoping to speak to you about something actually."

"Oh?" Aesylt continued her swift march across the stones. She nodded at some of her brother's men, stationed around the perimeter for herprotection, which only made her feel worse.

"Any reason you're practically running?"

Aesylt sucked in a bracing breath and slowed near the old yew at the center of the courtyard. "It's rather cold, if you hadn't noticed."

"When is it not?" Rahn caught up and jogged into place beside her. "Is now a good time to talk?"

There was nothing to say but yes. She had no good reason to refuse—no explanation for why she felt the pervading need to put as much distance between her heart and Rahn Tindahl as possible. "Let's... step under the eaves at least," she muttered.

"I thought perhaps inside? Since it's so... cold, as you say."

"This will do fine." Aesylt spun once she was under the covering. Her heart skipped and pattered at the sight of the man, flush-faced and solemn.

"Are you all right?" Rahn came closer, his head tilted and his eyes wide with genuine, maddening concern.

"I've just come from speaking with my brother, and I'm... tired." There, she thought. Not a lie.

"Ahh." Rahn cleared his throat and shrugged. "I thought later, since tonight looks to be cloudy, we might stay in the apartments and go over our past charts, search for commonalities as we did with the bowman."

As you did with the bowman, because I was too emotionally bruised to take part. Aesylt nodded. "Sure. Yes." She glanced over her shoulder, toward the nearest entrance.

Rahn noted this with a frown. "Good. We can begin, say, after supper?"

"Yes."

"Splendid." He rubbed his hands together and brought them to his mouth with a shiver.

"Was that all?"

"No, there is one more thing." His brows creased, his hands falling away. "I've given some thought to what you told me last night about the curricula and Niklaus. It would be unprofessional of me to allow it, and it is my duty, my responsibility as the lead of this cohort, to find an alternative that satisfies the requirements without compromising the researchers. Do you understand?"

Aesylt squinted one eye. "And do you have one? An alternative?"

He held out his gloved hands with a sheepish half smile. "I'm working on one."

"Hmm. So you keep saying." A deviant streak rushed across her chest, offering temporary easement to the ache that hadn't left since she'd realized what was happening in the barn next to her. "Well, you needn't worry, Scholar. I'm not interested in an alternative."

"You're..." His brows fused. "Not?"

Aesylt plastered a smile on her face. "No, in fact, the more I've thought about it, the more I'm looking forward to it."

The disappointment in his expression was a hollow victory, but it made the smile on her face turn real.

"We both are. So trouble yourself no longer."