Chapter 27
Her mind was slow, wading through a syrupy, pleasant haze as she woke. Her consciousness came back together in fragments, like pieces of driftwood catching in a swirling inlet, gathering until she could form a coherent thought.
Then, the sharp slice of pain as Ksenia shifted in the hospital cot and gauze and bandages pulled tighter. The stitching in her shoulder reminded her of the dagger that Tivan had pierced her with.
A slow smile crawled over her face as she relished the cold, sharp air in her lungs, the ache in her bones, and even the painful throb radiating from her wound: she had won the trials.
She pried her eyelids open. An empty wooden chair was close to her right bedside.
“You’re alive.” A quiet voice caught her attention to her left.
Danika sat on a neighboring cot, her brow creased with worry and hands folded tightly in her lap as if restraining from reaching out to her.
“You’re alive,” she repeated. “I didn’t know what had happened, and the nurses sedated you to prevent further injury.” Danika raked her hands through her loose flaxen hair, leaving them atop her head.
Ksenia felt a pang of guilt. Danika’s eyes were blotchy from crying and lack of sleep.
“I’m sorry I worried you.” Her throat felt like she had swallowed glass, but she pressed through the pain and whispered, “I couldn’t tell you—I knew you would try to stop me. But I won.”
“Obviously, I would have tried to stop you.” Danika laughed, swiping tears from her eyes. “You’re impossible. You’ve always been impossible.”
“And you’ve always been awake when I got back.”
Every time she’d come home late from a Bound Eye mission, from a night in the Vein, or from something she shouldn’t have been doing, Danika would always be there.
Sitting up with a candle burning low, pretending to read, scratching away in her diary, waiting.
She masked her worry with lectures and barbs, but Ksenia knew. Danika just needed to see her walk back through the door.
Against her better judgment, Ksenia reached out weakly from the covers. Danika’s hand darted forward to grasp hers without hesitation.
“I would’ve sat here till you woke, but that would’ve been suspicious. And…” Danika’s chin tilted toward the empty chair. “The captain was here every chance I got.”
Ksenia’s cheeks pinked.
Her elder sister’s eyes narrowed slightly, brows rising a fraction as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. The corner of her mouth twitched, a tiny pull that had preceded countless sisterly interrogations.
“Is there something going on that I should know about?”
“No,” Ksenia rasped, pulling her hand away hastily as a flush spread down her neck. “I feel like death, so this conversation is over.”
“Understandable.” Danika’s brow lowered with visible effort. “But as soon as you’re well, you’re telling me everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Ksenia kept her voice even, and despite the embarrassment branding itself deep in her stomach, Ksenia welcomed this rare moment of normalcy between them. “But I’ll be able to go to the forge now that I’m Sevrant.”
Ksenia’s return to Beranek Manor was triumphant. Varka had thrown a massive but private banquet in her honor the night she returned, dressing the dining table with all manner of food from Brannfels. Over the green tablecloth, Varka hoisted her goblet into the air.
“To Senka, who bested the odds and is the second woman ever to become Sevrant.”
That begged the question.
“Who was the first?”
“Vezna Beranek, my aunt.” Her voice was proud and strong.
“Your family has a deeper history with the Sevrant and the royal family than I had expected…” She sipped from a mug of warm tea mixed with lemon and honey.
“She had a tenuous relationship with Karsan and mysteriously died around the same time as my mother.” Varka’s eyes grew sharp and looked through Ksenia, instead of at her. “But we’re going to find the truth.”
“Aren’t you concerned that he’ll catch on and execute you as a traitor?”
“I’d be a fool to say I’ve never considered the possibility. But my family is well-connected. Karsan knows this, and I suspect he wanted to use us in some way.” A harsh bitterness edged Varka’s voice. “Here we are now. One bastard son, two dead matriarchs later.”
Something snapped in her, and she reached her hand forward across the table to grasp Ksenia’s.
“Senka. No matter what happens behind those walls, don’t forget that I am your ally.” She leaned closer; Ksenia could smell the wine on her breath. “People will try to influence you or attempt to gain influence. Be wary of who’s nearby.”
Ksenia moved her food around her plate, appetite gone. “What about your brother’s motivations?”
Clearly, he was loyal and obedient to Karsan. But at the same time, he seemed more cogent than the rabble, even around his father.
“The crown, I would assume. Karsan has no official heirs. Ravenka died in childbirth. He’s the only son Karsan has, albeit illegitimate.
” She swigged the rest of her spiced wine, then wiped her mouth on a napkin.
“Though he will never sit on the throne. Karsan keeps him strung along like a puppy doing his bidding, but never in the twenty-eight years since he was born has that man told him explicitly that he will succeed the throne.”
Ksenia frowned. “Karsan will eventually die. What will he do with the throne then?”
Varka’s fingers rapped on the table. “Exactly. It’s been a topic of speculation in the court for the last decade. It’s why so many nobles trip over themselves to please the butcher king.”
Well, that and because of Radegast’s compulsion, but Ksenia didn’t interrupt Varka’s explanation.
What a pitiful existence. For Bohdan to dedicate his entire life to one man’s whims, only to come up empty-handed.
Ksenia felt a little sorry for him.
But her sympathies evaporated when she remembered how she ended up here in the first place.
She turned over another question in her mind. “Is it true that Prince Radovan was Envorsen?”
Varka stilled. “Radovan and Bohdan were thick as thieves growing up. Sort of like brothers, commiserating in Hearth, but then separated by opposite sides of the war.” Her knife sliced through a veal cutlet. “Bohdan was the one to turn him in for treason.”
Ksenia stilled. She tried to imagine the reasons for which she might betray Danika, but hit a dead end.
“Now, are you ready to get to business?” Varka waggled her brows, her lips stained with wine, already pushing her chair away from the table.
“Lead on…” Ksenia followed suit.
“Dear Sevrant, freshly born…I daresay that you’ve been hiding something from me…” Varka tossed over her shoulder before she spun around to face Ksenia on their path to the library.
A massive, circular table had been placed in the center of the room. Carved from solid dark and light wood, the tabletop design resembled a compass with radiating spikes pointing in the cardinal and diagonal directions.
Strewn over it were open books, random assortments of missives and parchments, inkwells, and pens, all in a complete disarray.
Varka had been busy.
Ksenia quirked a brow. “And what might that be?”
“One of the key reasons I chose you to be my champion: you are a bondsmith, and you are immune to Karsan’s compulsion—aren’t you?” Varka peered up at her, her chin tilted down.
Ksenia bit the tip of her tongue. She knew she hadn’t been subtle, but she wasn’t sure if Varka deserved the whole truth.
Ksenia held her gaze, impassive. “You know about his compulsion?”
“Oh, I know about his compulsion.” Varka rapped her finger against several aged journals laid bare on the table. “I gathered as many books written by bondsmiths as I could over the years, anything to preserve them from Karsan’s blight.”
Ksenia stepped in closer, taking in texts she thought had been destroyed. The depth of Varka’s preparation and knowledge was immense.
Varka circled the table slowly, eyes flitting to various books.
“I’ve stayed away from Hearth for years, and I know the compulsion can wear off with time because that’s what happened to me.
” Her eyes flared. “And that’s how I operated within the Bound Eye right beneath his nose.
I suspect Karsan himself doesn’t know the exact limits of his compulsion either, and I intend to keep it that way. ”
Ksenia had suspected as much, but was relieved to hear the confirmation from Varka’s own mouth.
Varka had reached full circle around the table and was back in front of Ksenia.
“And that’s how I knew you were a bondsmith.
You had to pledge fealty to get to the citadel.
” Her smile was toothy. “And it’s the only way that what happened next was possible: You tried to attack the bastard prince on Hearth’s doorstep and spoke freely against the king. ”
Ksenia’s eye twitched as she turned over the possibilities in her head. “But how did you avoid the bloodletting then?”
“I’m rich. And you think you’re the only one who knows about the secret passageways within Hearth? And the Vein?” Varka chuckled. “Karsan has become lax, complacent in his security. He’s dependent on Radegast.” Her gaze sharpened on Ksenia. “He thinks he controls everyone. You included.”
“Naturally,” Ksenia replied.
“His loyal Sevrant—a bondsmith—who has to learn every vulnerability in the castle.” Varka’s fingers traced an architectural diagram on the table.
Ksenia leaned in. “Who decides which ones get fixed, which ones get left alone.”
“A courtesan in his inner circle who reports back on secrets she learns, or maybe not.” She paused. “You’ve killed for him. You almost died for him. My only sorrow is that I didn’t find you sooner.”
“But you found me, regardless,” Ksenia finished.
“How appropriate it will be when his weapon turns on him.” Their eyes locked with a smile.
Varka leaned against the edge of the table. “So, then. Now that you know I’m a Bound Eye operative, and I know you are a bondsmith, I have a plan.”
She spread out a map and several dossiers before Ksenia.
“His power rests on three pillars,” Varka began. “His hold on the faithful, his hold on the coin, and lastly, his hold on the woman who steadies him.”
Ksenia riffled through the dossiers. “You want to isolate him.”
“I want to drive him to paranoia,” Varka corrected.
“He will start seeing threats everywhere and tighten his circle until there’s no one left, which will leave him open for attack.
” She held Ksenia’s gaze. “As a double agent in his inner circle, you’re the only person immune and capable of assassinating him. ”
Karsan never let Radegast out of his grip.
But isolated? Maybe. Maybe she had a shot.
This was a massive risk.
Ksenia wished to believe what Varka claimed about being free of Karsan’s compulsion, but all it took was one drop of blood to pull her back under.
Then, anything Varka knew or kept secret would be laid bare to Karsan if he knew what to ask.
Ksenia licked her lips. “I’ll agree to this only if you continue to remain far away from Hearth and Karsan. The knowledge you have is too risky to fall into his hands.”
Varka rolled her eyes. “Believe me, I’ve been avoiding him successfully for years.”
The noblewoman extended her forearm to Ksenia, who grasped it firmly in return.
“Three pillars, then we kill the king.” Ksenia smiled.