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Despite my first impression, the building was a fairly ordinary seamstress shop. Fabric lay draped over every surface, along with other tools of the trade.
Izolda gestured at a loft above us. “She slept upstairs. All her outstanding orders have been completed, and we told her regular customers she would be leaving the city, so she won’t be missed.”
I walked around the shop, letting my fingers trace the fabric. Was my own life so easily dismissed as well? A few small actions had been enough to erase Sofia’s entire existence in this town. Would it be as easy for Han to erase mine? Or would everything go back to normal when I returned from court?
No, my life wouldn’t go back to normal afterward. The tsar had promised to ennoble Han after the war—and Yakov, and every other survivor of Barbezht that supported him. We’d have to leave the farm behind and move to the new land the tsar gave us.
But unlike Sofia, I could come back to my friends and family, if not to my home. Help the tsar win the war. Make Miroslav and his men pay for what they took from me. Then I could go back. I could tell Anna, Yakov, and all the rest what I’d done and why I’d done it. My life wasn’t the same as Sofia’s at all.
I climbed the ladder into the loft. A wool-stuffed mattress lay on the floor next to a wooden chest. I knelt and opened the chest, ignoring the guilt that gnawed at my stomach. Sofia was dead. What was it the tsar had told me?Taking her identity will harm no one and help many.
I took a deep breath and rifled through the contents of the chest. It contained nothing personal, just some clothing and candles. No insight into who Sofia might have been.
Izolda’s head peeked up from the ladder. “We’ll have the chest brought to the castle, but you should pack up anything else you want.” She cast an eye around the barren loft. “Not that there’s much up here.”
I nodded, closing the lid of the chest. “Let’s go pack up my tools.”
Chapter thirteen
Setting Out
Mila
The next few days went by in a whirlwind. I spent my time refining my seamstress skills and learning about Sofia Stepanova. With the baroness’s order not to contact anyone from my previous life, I did my best to stay away from Han, who had gone home for a single night before returning to the baron’s castle in Tsebol. Avoiding him was easier said than done; his efforts to speak with me grew more frantic each time I rebuffed him. I hated leaving things the way they were between us, but we would both be safer if we didn’t see each other until I returned.
The day before I was to leave for the capital, I was walking through the castle when someone grabbed my hand and pulled me into an alcove hidden behind a large tapestry.
“Han!” I breathed. “We can’t be seen like this.”
He pulled me close and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I was afraid I wouldn’t get to see you at all before you left.” Holding meat arm’s length, he looked into my eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I had to.” Footsteps approached, and I froze, hardly daring to breathe. After a moment, the footsteps receded. I glared at Han. “You’ll give me away before I even reach the capital. It’s not safe.”
He drew my mouth to his, and despite my worries, I melted beneath his touch. Otets’ Blood. I needed to stay away from him, for both our sakes, but the muscles of his chest beneath my hands, the feel of his tongue as it slipped into my mouth… A thrill ran through me, and everything left my mind. Every touch felt different now. Stronger, more intense.
No, that wasn’t true. It didn’t feel different; it felt like it had before I’d been attacked. I felt normal again in this stranger’s body. Han’s hand roamed my back, and I shivered with desire.
Too soon, he broke our embrace. “Don’t go, Mila.”
“Don’t start.” Why couldn’t he let me do this? “You’ll be the one waging a war.”
“And you’ll be the one in the viper’s nest. What sort of man would I be, sitting at home while my wife goes into danger?”
“A sensible one. You can’t even fight.” He winced at the reminder of his uselessness on the battlefield. I instantly regretted my words, but I couldn’t take them back.
“I won’t be fighting. The tsar wants me to advise him, to raise support. I won’t be anywhere near the battles.” I could hear the longing in his voice, though. He was a soldier at heart. He wanted nothing more than to carry a sword for his tsar again. “I don’t want to argue, Milochka. Just reconsider. Please. The tsar won’t force you to go.”
I took a step back. “Don’t.” A bell chimed somewhere in the distance, reminding me of the time. Shit. If Lady Heli found out about this… “I have to go.”
I peered out of the alcove. The hall was clear, but before I could step out, Han swept me back up into a kiss.
“Don’t forget who you are, Mila Dmitrievna,” he said, touching his forehead to mine. “Come back to me.”
The look on his face was pure desperation, and it tore at my heart. “I will.” Before I could lose my resolve, I pulled from his arms and ran down the hall.
Just after dawn the next morning, the baron’s household set out. Atop my borrowed horse, I scanned the crowd that waited to see us off. Where was he?
There, in the back of the courtyard. Han stood watching me from the shadows, his face melancholy. I nodded at him, trying to convey with my eyes what I couldn’t say—that I loved him, that I’d be back soon, that I wouldn’t forget him. That I was doing this for him, no matter how much he thought otherwise. He mouthed, “I love you,” and I smiled back. I couldn’t mouth the words back to him. Not with so many eyes around us.
