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“I don’t want to put you in danger. If this isn’t some elaborate trap, we could need men like you soon.” I mounted my horse and cast a glance upward toward the house, where Mila would be sitting with Ulyana waiting for me. “Tell Mila our business finished early, so I went to the temple to pray for—for the baby’s soul.” A wave of grief swept over me, tightening my throat. I would find justice for him, for the family we never got to be. “By Otets’ grace, I’ll be back safe by supper.”
“Otets go with you, Han.”
The small temple outside of Tsebol was quiet and unassuming, as most people worshiped at the larger temple inside the city. I tied my horse to the post outside and entered the small woodenbuilding, brushing my hand reverently over the red-painted doorframe.
Inside, I took off my black ushanka-hat and bowed reverently in the direction of the altar. A stocky Brother in a simple white robe and cap approached.
“How can we serve you, honored son?”
I swallowed, my skin clammy. The moment of truth. “I’ve come to pray for the tsar.”
The priest blinked once and nodded. “Follow me.” He led me to a prayer room off of the main sanctuary and shut the door. “Please kneel.”
I did as I was told, heart thundering. Almost as soon as I knelt, the Brother shoved my head onto the kneeling rail and yanked my arms behind my back.
“Who sent you?” he growled, tying my wrists together. I hadn’t fastened the bean-filled glove to my wrist properly; it slid off, and the rope slackened. “What is this?” the priest demanded.
I fought down my panic. It wasn’t a trap. It couldn’t be. The Brother was just being cautious, trying to protect Borislav. “I’m a survivor of Barbezht!” The words tumbled out of me. “Boris Stepanovich sent me!”
The Brother didn’t answer but tied my hand to my belt. He placed a rough sack over my head and yanked me to my feet.
I fought to keep my breathing even. They wouldn’t cover my face if they were working for Miroslav. They would arrest me, or kill me outright.
A tug on the rope made me pitch forward, and someone—the priest, I assumed—led me, stumbling, through the temple. I heard the sound of a door opening, and we walked down a steep set of stairs. The air became cool and damp, clinging to my skin. Our footsteps echoed as we walked for what felt like ages. Finally, another door opened, and the tugging on the rope stopped. A hand on my back forced me to my knees.
I should have told Mila goodbye. If I died here—
Someone tore the bag from my head. Candlelight illuminated the small, windowless room and the desk in front of me.
On the opposite side of the desk stood Borislav, rightful tsar of Inzhria.
All the air left my lungs. I’d never seen the tsar this close, but it was unmistakably the same man who had led us into the fated battle at Barbezht. His black beard was overgrown, hiding the high cheekbones that would have exposed his heritage, and his simple clothing belied his rank, but he held himself with the same unmistakable authority.
The Brother cleared his throat. “Your majesty, he said he was here to pray for the tsar. He said Boris Stepanovich sent him.”
“Thank you for your diligence, but this man is no threat to me.” The tsar’s voice was soft but commanding. “He has suffered enough for my sake. Unless I am much mistaken, he lost his sword hand at my brother’s order.” He crossed the room and drew a dagger, using it to cut the rope that bound me. “What is your name, soldier?”
I stared, wide-eyed, at the royal standing before me. “Han Aleksandrovich, your majesty.”
He inclined his head. “I thank you for your service, Han Aleksandrovich.” To the Brother, he said, “You may leave us.”
The door closed behind the priest, and the tsar and I were alone in the small room.
I had to explain, to tell him why I was alive, why I had knelt to his brother. “Your majesty, if I had known, if we had known—we would never have surrendered. We would have fought to the very last man—” I choked on the words, my eyes stinging.
“Rise. Be at peace. How could you have known? You did what you must to survive.” Tsar Borislav took a seat, gesturing for me to sit as well.
I remained on my knees, placing my wrist over my heart. “Your majesty, I’m yours to command. I was wrong to kneel to your brother, and I want to swear loyalty to you, only you, for the rest of my life.” I’d made a mistake before, changing my loyalties, but I wouldn’t make that mistake again. I was Borislav’s man for life.
The tsar nodded solemnly, and I said the words every Inzhrian knew but few ever had reason to say. “As I live in the light of Otets, I will serve only you, my lord, do you no harm, and defend and protect you against all who would harm both your good name and your person. I swear to do so from this day until I am called to my eternal rest.”
Placing a hand on my head, the tsar gave the traditional response. “I accept your allegiance and swear to be an honorable judge of all your causes, worthy of your loyalty, and I swear also to provide you always with protection of your body and spirit. Rise.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat as I stood. “Thank you.”
He gestured again to the seat across from him. My whole body hummed with tension, but I sat.
“If we had kno—” I began again, but the tsar held up a hand.
