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I picked at my food. What if Izolda was right? She had known him most of her life, so she would know his character better than I would. Flirting with the man was one thing, but if he wanted more…
She seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Talk about complications, huh?”
“I need a distraction. He’s available.” I shrugged, taking another bite. “I’m sure there are benefits to a relationship.” I gave her a suggestive grin, but I wasn’t referring to physical benefits. His position allowed him to hear things I couldn’t, and if he wanted a relationship, I’d be able to glean more information from him. It wasn’t as though I had anyone waiting at home for me.
I pushed that thought away. I wasn’t Mila. Mila had died with Han. No, I was Sofia, and I would employ every strategy possible to make sure I got revenge against the monster who’d killed me.
Even if some small part of me rebelled at the thought of lying to Alexey Grigorovich.
Chapter twenty-five
Drakra
Han
The mountains loomed over us, and a sense of dread settled in my stomach. Since that first stop, we had traveled without incident, but now we were nearing Drakra territory. Here, the danger we faced wasn’t human.
We stopped in a small village for directions to the high priestess’s temple, and we exchanged our horses for a set of large mountain goats, which were better suited to pulling the sleigh along the rocky roads. We would return the goats when—or rather, if—we returned. If the Drakra didn’t hand us over to Miroslav, or worse.
The air grew colder, and the roads narrowed the higher we went up the mountain. I made the mistake of glancing down once and immediately wished I hadn’t. A chunk of ice, knocked loose by the goats’ feet, tumbled down the sheer cliff edge,echoing as it fell. I pulled my fur coat tighter around me, praying the goats remained sure-footed. No one would survive that drop.
I breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the road widened slightly and a town appeared. Stone houses rose up on each side of the road, some carved directly into the mountainside. The stones were smooth from centuries of weathering.
“I thought it would be bigger,” Lada muttered. I grunted in agreement.
We passed a number of abandoned houses on the outskirts of the town. Doors hung lopsided from their hinges, and no smoke rose from the chimneys. The Drakra had lost a significant portion of their population in the Spider Wars, I knew, but I hadn’t realized how poorly they had fared. This was no thriving settlement. It was a ghost town.
Short, gray-skinned Drakra, both male and female, ignored us as we passed. They were obviously used to seeing humans; even the children paid us no heed. I, on the other hand, had to remind myself not to stare. Their rough, callused skin looked as though all color had been leached from it. Most wore furs to guard against the biting wind, and the gray furs of rabbits and wolves matched the Drakras’ colorless skin, making it difficult to tell from a distance where the furs ended and their skin began. A time or two, we passed a corner that seemed darker than it should have been. The hairs on my neck rose. The Drakra could shadow-meld—were those shadows Drakra watching us?
We climbed through the town until we reached the highest point. A set of stairs, carved into the mountainside, led to a temple. At the top of the stairs, two Drakra men, no more than five feet tall, guarded the door. They held their spears erect, unmoving as my companions and I climbed down from the sleigh and tied the goats to a post.
Wind swirled around us, making me shiver, but despite the guards’ bare arms, they didn’t react to the cold. Their skinappeared thick, coarse, as if carved from stone, and I wondered if their thicker skin kept them warm.
“We come on a diplomatic mission,” I said to the guards. “We wish to treat with Yixa na Chekke.” We hadn’t been able to send word ahead of our arrival, for fear that Miroslav’s men might intercept it. I said a silent prayer to Otets that the high priestess of the Drakra wouldn’t send us away.
One of the guards beat the butt of his spear against the ground, and the other opened the door for us.
I glanced at Yakov and Lada before stepping into the darkness of the temple.
Once inside, my eyes took a moment to adjust. We were in a high-ceilinged hall. Seven doors led from the hall—eight, if I included the door we’d entered through. The spicy, intoxicating scent of burning leckozht needles filled the air. In the center of the room was a table atop a dais. Next to the table stood a Drakra woman, her skin the color of charcoal. Her long hair was black, striped with red, and she held a bowl full of something smoking. Burning leckozht, I assumed.
The priestess placed the bowl on the table and bowed her head. Then she turned, staring down her long nose at us.
“What brings three humans to speak with Yixa na Chekke, voice of the goddess Xyxra?”
Out of respect for the Drakras’ matriarchal culture, we had chosen Lada to speak for us. The Blood Bastard stepped forward and bowed before introducing us. “We come to you on behalf of Borislav of the Blood, rightful Heir of the Sanctioned and Tsar of Inzhria, who has charged us to form an alliance with our respected friends, the noble race of Drakra. We have letters and gifts from his majesty.” She opened her pack and brought out a set of glass bottles. “A gift made by the Blood. These potions will cure minor illnesses swifter than any natural remedy. They werespecially created to be used by Drakra.” She placed them in front of the dais, at the priestess’s feet.
The priestess’s face was unreadable, like the stone it seemed to be carved from. I nodded at Yakov to offer his gift.
He brought out a block of salt. “A gift made by the sea. Sea salt, from the western coast of Inzhria.” He set the block next to the potions.
“And a gift made by the land.” I stepped forward with the potted spruce sapling I held. “This tree was enchanted by the tsar to thrive as long as the friendship between his people and yours thrives.” I placed the final gift next to the others, along with the ambassadorial letters. “His majesty Tsar Borislav also sends his regards in these letters and authorizes us to speak in his stead.”
The priestess watched us for a moment, unspeaking. She rang a bell, and a young Drakra woman came from the room behind her. “They will be staying with us for a few days,” the priestess told her. “See to their comfort.”
That was promising, at least. She didn’t insist we leave or call guards to throw us in a cell.
The young woman led us to a small house near the town center. “The priestess will summon you soon.”
