Chapter 5 #2
She studied the young woman. Light green eyes paired with tousled dark brown hair shorn to chin-length.
She was dressed in a fine emerald tunic beneath a tailored leather corset.
The woman—Varka—squared her broad shoulders in response and crossed her trousered legs at the ankles, the picture of ease despite the tension in the air.
Everyone knew the Beranek name. Varka was astonishingly young to have achieved the matriarch title of a noble house; she had to be scarcely thirty years old by Ksenia’s guess.
Theirs was one of the oldest houses in the kingdom, and their influence had run deep in previous courts before they fell spectacularly out of favor with Karsan.
Now they kept to the kingdom’s edge, content to live off old wealth and older grudges, according to rumor.
Ksenia had never met any of them, but if not for Varka’s intervention, she’d be dead—not even a day old in her new body.
And you said you were ready for this challenge. Vornaya’s saccharine voice barbed her.
“She’s for the festivities.” Varka waved dismissively. “Thought I’d try to earn back some goodwill with our dear king this year.”
His eyes narrowed, assessing Ksenia. “An entrant to the festivities attacking me on sight?” His lip curled. “Interesting strategy. What are you playing at, Varka?”
“Need I explain more?” Varka’s smile cut like a knife. “I saw potential, thought I’d test it against a formidable opponent.” She glanced at Ksenia over her shoulder, one brow raised in warning. “She’s got fire, if not sense.”
“This one won’t make it,” Bohdan corrected.
“Fuck you—” Ksenia lunged, proving Varka’s point perfectly.
Varka hooked her arm and clamped a gruff hand over her mouth, yanking Ksenia back. “Easy, there.”
Ksenia stilled at the warning in her low voice.
Then louder—to Bohdan—she said, “We’ll see, won’t we? The festival will prove which of us is right.”
He straightened his cloak, relishing the fury in Ksenia’s face a moment longer. “Charge or not, I will kill her the next time she steps out of line.”
“Of course, Captain,” Varka said smoothly, dipping her chin as Bohdan slunk down the pathway.
Once he was out of earshot, Varka turned sharply.
“What do you think you’re doing? Targeting a man in broad daylight? And not just any man.” Varka shoved her back a step, eyes narrowed. “The prince, bastard as he may be, has been trained by the best fighters in two kingdoms. You must have a death wish.”
Ksenia snorted, but she continued, undeterred. “And it doesn’t matter if you have a soulbound blade like that—it’ll just bring you to the executioner sooner.”
Ksenia glared. “What difference does it make.” Her near-death experience had loosened her tongue.
Varka frowned, confused, and Ksenia took the opening, lunging forward.
Varka turned away at the last second and raised her brow as she crowded her space, sizing her up.
Ksenia growled, leaning in with a quick slash, missing. Varka spun on her heel and was at her side in the blink of an eye.
She grasped Ksenia’s arm and forced her momentum forward, disarming her in one fluid motion.
Pain and searing heat burst behind Ksenia’s eyes as humiliation branded itself in her gut.
Disappointing.
Ksenia’s red-rimmed stare pierced Varka, and she imagined how she looked: rage lining her body, sweat on her face, murderous contempt in her golden orbs.
“You really are mad, you know that?”
Ksenia let the words wash over her, lunging for Caromir—anything to stop the blazing poker needling her skull.
Varka calmly tossed it, and instant relief flooded her when she caught it, restoring equilibrium.
“Interesting words for a law-abiding citizen. I made up that excuse I gave Bohdan, but perhaps it isn’t as outlandish as I thought.”
The adrenaline-induced fog was lifting in Ksenia’s mind. “What are you talking about?”
“The festivities. Have you ever even heard of the Sevrant trials?”
Ksenia kept the wicked point of her blade trained on Varka. “No.”
“Odd behavior toward someone who just saved your life.” She sniffed. “Especially considering I didn’t kill you just now for attacking me.”
Ksenia pushed past her to glare up at Hearth’s imposing spires over the railing.
Varka joined her and settled her olive-skinned arms to rest against the stone wall.
“Ah, trying to get into Hearth? Past the walls, the traps, the castle guard, the Envorsen, past Bohdan, and into Hearth?” Varka leaned into Ksenia’s space and whispered low. “Let me tell you of another way in—where you can bypass all that by being a part of the court as the king’s hidden blade.”
Ksenia’s scowl deepened. “His blade.”
Varka nodded. “If you continue on this path, you won’t even reach Hearth’s threshold.
” She flicked a loose rock off the ledge before brushing off her hands.
“You need an in. I need a fighter to sponsor who can bide their time, then be brave enough to take on the darkness within. Lucky for us, I have an option.”
Ksenia furrowed her brow. “You have a vendetta.”
Against the king? How?
“I have many vendettas.” Varka’s expression was unreadable. “But we’re not discussing this here.” Her eyes bounced toward the merchant square below, at the guards still trying to restore order.
“Half of the guard is looking for whoever started the mess below, and the Envorsen that spotted you are wondering why Bohdan just let some unknown woman walk away after she attempted to gut him.”
Ksenia’s grip on Caromir tensed. “And how do I know this isn’t a trap?”
“You don’t.” Varka’s smile was conniving. “I can leave you here to fight all the guards. I have no doubt you’ll try, but ultimately fail.”
Varka shifted so her back was to the courtyard, one elbow propped behind her. She leveled her scrutinizing gaze on Ksenia’s profile. “And if I wanted you dead or captured, I’d have let Bohdan finish the job. Or done it myself when you provoked me.”
Her casual delivery chilled Ksenia to the bone. She had walked into a den of vipers with a single dagger and hoped to assassinate the most feared king in the lands. She was ill-equipped to save Danika, let alone herself.
Varka was already making for the stairs. “Let’s go. There’s a tavern near here—the Golden Stag. I have a private room where we can talk without an audience.”
She disappeared down the stairwell, leaving Ksenia with the sinking feeling that she had little other choice than to follow.