Chapter 6 #2
As for the tsarevna, her leadership style was very different.
She made a man feel seen and important, a vital member of her crew.
Not only that, but she definitely had a sense of purpose and direction.
It remained to be seen if that attitude would carry through over the next few days or not, but so far Zakhar was very impressed with her.
He hoped it was merely admiration for her skills as a royal he was feeling, and all the other emotions that seemed to be accompanying that esteem would melt away into simple respect.
They made good time, and Stacia even complimented Zakhar on his pace.
It was the tsarevna who called a halt and needed a rest at midday.
Zakhar handed her some of the wrapped meat and gave a healthy portion to Iriko.
They had been hiking near the stream, so they stopped to fill their bottles, and Stacia removed her shoes and dipped her feet in the icy water, hissing as she did.
“What’s wrong?” Zakhar asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, rubbing her heels. “It’s the footwear he created for me. I’d have preferred my hiking boots. And this skirt is slowing me down.”
Zakhar crouched down to look at her feet. There were blisters on her delicate arches. That just wouldn’t do. He frowned and removed the bag from his back.
“Here,” he said. “There are extra changes of clothing in the bag. I saw leggings and tunics, and there’s a pair of woolen socks and soft-soled boots. See if those will fit.”
Stacia smiled up at him. “Wouldn’t you prefer to change out of your priest’s robes?”
He shrugged. “No. They help me remember my vows.”
“Are you saying you forget?”
Heat crept up his neck. “Not forget, exactly. Let’s just say all of us are tempted on occasion. My robes are simply another layer of protection. Like your armor in battle. We all fight our enemies in different ways.”
“I suppose we do.”
He pulled out the boots, clothing, and socks, and handed them to her. “There’s a thick copse of trees over there. It would be a good place to change. I’ll stay here with Iriko.”
“Okay. Thanks again, Zakhar.”
“You’re welcome, Tsarev—I mean, Stacia.”
He watched her disappear and then turned around, so his back was to the trees. He was going to say something to Iriko to make certain the tiger would avert his eyes as well, but then he remembered the tiger was blind, so it didn’t matter which direction he was looking.
Just then the tiger made a chuffing sort of noise, and he looked over at the huge gray beast with black stripes. He heard Stacia yell out, “Well, can’t you choose not to look?”
Zakhar’s eyes widened.
She continued, “Fine! I’ll close my eyes, but it makes it hard to get dressed, you know.”
When the tsarevna emerged, she bumped the tiger’s shoulder with her hip. “Ever heard of privacy? Can’t you switch to looking out of Zakhar’s eyes for a while?” There was a pause. “Well, that’s a bit inconvenient then, isn’t it?”
She sighed in resignation, then said, “Come on, Zakhar. Let’s go. Oh, and Iriko has something he’d like to confess, by the way.”
“He does?”
“Yes, you do,” she said with irritation. “You should feel embarrassed.”
Zakhar stared at the tiger, wondering what he would do or feel if he’d been in that position.
“Of course it’s a sin. Don’t you think it’s a sin, Father?”
“Uh, technically, I’m not a—”
Stacia interrupted him, clearly still lecturing Iriko. “What do you mean you’re not sorry? Well, if a priest can’t make you sorry, and God can’t do it, then I’ll sure as hell give it a try!”
Zakhar held up his hands. “Okay now. I think this is getting—”
“You name the place and the weapon, whiskers. You want to go fang to fang and claw to claw? Fine! You think you can best me as a human? I don’t think so.”
“You know there’s a great scripture about turning the other cheek,” Zakhar began, trying to make peace.
Stacia finally turned to him, her face livid. “What do you think I’m so angry about? He was spying on my bare cheeks. That’s the whole problem, isn’t it?”
Spluttering, his own cheeks turning apple red, Zakhar said, “I’m not . . . Correct me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t you have had to turn completely around for him to—”
Stacia waved a hand. “Never mind. It was a metaphor.”
“Right. Well, that’s not exactly how metaphors—”
“Are you trying to pick a fight too? Because I’m happy to take both of you on at the same time.”
“No. No. Not at all. If you say he saw your, um . . . backside, then I believe you.”
“Thank you.”
“Yes, well . . . if you’ll be so good as to allow me to speak with Iriko, man-to-man, perhaps I can clear this up.”
“Be my guest,” she said, throwing up her hand and stalking away several paces.
Zakhar took a breath and said quietly, “Now, Iriko, I know that I won’t understand you, but you can understand me, so here it goes.
” Zakhar clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing while the tiger sat and angled his head toward the priest. “I don’t have much in the way of personal experience in relationships between men and women,” he began, “but I have counseled many bitter, angry souls. I’ve found that most things can be fixed with apologies.
Sometimes that requires swallowing pride, but it’s worth it.
I know you can’t do anything about your . . . vision problem.”
The tiger huffed softly in response, sending a small shiver down Zakhar’s spine.
“Yes. Well, regardless, the girl’s embarrassed.
Would it be too much to say you’re sorry?
That no harm was meant? Now, most priests would say it’s a sin to lie.
But I say, on occasion, the good Lord Himself might tell a woman she’s beautiful, when compared to others she might be found lacking”—he held up a finger—“and I would venture, even when she’s angry.
After all, He who created the cunning wolverine and the wild boar and pronounced them good can surely find joy and splendor in even a furious woman.
I wouldn’t consider such a thing a lie. I’d instead call it looking at someone with godly perspective.
“Your job, as I see it, is to speak to our Stacia using godly—or perhaps princely, if you can’t bring yourself to do otherwise—language.
Every woman, but this one in particular, who you depend upon so very much, must be treated with great care and consideration.
Now, that’s all I have to say on the subject.
Unless you’d like me to go on?” Zakhar paused, waiting for a noise from the tiger.
When he heard none, he said, “Then, if you’ll permit me, I’ll do my best to guide you back to the stream.”
Zakhar’s hand was trembling as he placed it on Iriko’s ruff, but when the tiger began walking beside him, he grew bolder and steadier.
When they approached Stacia, she turned, hands on hips, and said, “Well?”
After a moment of silence, Zakhar saw the corner of her lip quirk up. “Is that right?” she said. “Well . . . who would have thought? Spasibo.” Stasia turned and picked up her pack. “I’m talking to you, Zakhar.”
“What? Me?” he said, shouldering his own.
“Yes, you. Thank you for whatever it is you said to him. It helped.” Stacia patted the tiger, and he rubbed his head against her palm, then dug it into her hip, nearly knocking her over.
“Oh. Yes,” Zakhar sputtered in response. “Pozhaluysta. You’re welcome. It was nothing.”
“Oh no. It was something.”
They had just begun walking again when they heard a rustling in the bushes. Stacia pressed the button on the walking stick, revealing the hidden blade. “Who’s there?” she cried. “Come out at once, or my tiger will maul you and swallow you for supper!”