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“If I’m to win the throne, I will need all the support I can get. Han Antonovich will be traveling with me to raise troops, and I have others around the country doing the same. If you could call for men to join me and be ready to march when I send word, you would be rendering a service most necessary.”
“I’d be honored to, your majesty.”
I clapped my friend on the back. “Thank you for granting us this audience, your majesty. We’ll leave you to your work.”
“You’ll be ready to leave at dawn?” Borislav asked me.
“Yes, your majesty. Until tomorrow.” I bowed.
Yakov rose and bowed as well. We walked out of the castle and into the empty courtyard. I glanced sideways at him. “If you’re going to hit me, you’ll give me a warning, right?”
“Why would I hit you?”
“Why do you ever?” I rubbed my nose, which was still tender from his earlier punch. “I thought you’d be mad at me for keeping secrets. I did plan on telling you. I just thought it would be safer for everyone if we waited until the tsar was ready to declare himself openly.”
“I’m glad you didn’t wait. I would’ve had to hunt you down and kick your ass.” Yakov gave me a crooked grin. “I should get home. I told Mama I’d be back tonight. I’ll keep it to myself, but if you hear from Mila, tell her I’m praying,da?”
I hugged him. “I will. And tell Anna I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. Mila can’t write, but I’ll write when I can. We’ll be home in a few months.”
Yakov elbowed me in the ribs. “I thought I told you not to hug me in public. You’ll ruin my reputation.”
“Shove off,durachok.”I grinned as I watched the younger man exit the same gates Mila had gone through just a couple hours earlier, my heart considerably lighter. We would all make it through this war.
Chapter fourteen
Raising Support
Han
Ipicked at the bean-filled glove strapped to my wrist, the disguise for my missing hand. I’d never become accustomed to wearing anything on that arm, no matter how often I’d had to do it, but I was too conspicuous without the glove. The Blood Brothers we traveled with had provided me and the tsar with their red-trimmed white robes, the mark of their order, and with Otets’ blessing, we would reach our destination undetected by Miroslav.
The Brothers had taken a vow of poverty, so we journeyed on foot. I longed for my horse, if only to increase our speed. It would take us two days to reach the first town, and nearly a fortnight to reach Prince Radomir’s dacha, his country home, where the tsar intended to petition his cousin for support in the upcoming war.
“Does it hurt?” the tsar, walking beside me, asked. I looked askance, and he nodded at the glove.
“Not much.” I shrugged. “It’ll chafe by tonight. I don’t usually wear anything on it for this long, except during the harvest.”
“I’m certain one of the brothers will have a salve for you.”
“Mila makes salves for me and Yakov during the harvest.” After spending the day in the hot sun, it was a relief to come home and let her spread her ointments on my aching muscles. She always smelled like whatever herbs she’d been working with—leckozht and comfrey, garlic and mint. I often teased her that she smelled like a roast dinner. I smiled at the memory.
“A woman of many talents,” the tsar said. “Have no fear for your wife. Otets will protect her.”
“Yes, your majesty.” I believed that, truly, but faith didn’t always translate to emotion.
“I believe we should avoid such formalities on the road, Han. First names only, and no bowing or deference. Out in the open as we are, any such behavior could get back to my brother.”
“Of course.” Many boys had been named for the princes; another Borislav traveling the countryside would not be questioned.
“I pray we are successful with Radomir. If we can persuade him to join us, we should have the numbers needed to campaign openly against my brother.”
Prince Radomir, next in line after Borislav, commanded the loyalty of nearly a third of the country. Without him, this war was doomed before it even began.
Borislav sighed. “I must admit, it hurts my pride to depend so much on others to plead my case.”
I skirted a puddle left by the overnight rain. “My father used to say a good leader knew when to let others take the lead.”
“Your father was a wise man. And your mother, does she still live?”
