Page 43 of Hellbound

Bohdan was an enigma. He had already been complicit in her death once, and she sensed their lives would be hopelessly entangled further.

Ksenia’s anger was redirected at Varka. “Why didn’t you tell me he was your brother?”

“I did not deem it necessary information. If you couldn’t pull this off, you had no hope in the trials.” Varka polished the sword with the hem of her sleeve, the metal coming away spotless. “Besides, I got you something.” She jammed her hand deep into her pocket, a confused look crossing her face as she came up empty-handed.

A smile played on Ksenia’s lips as she watched Varka pat herself down, searching for something.

“Looking for this?” A heavy gold token flipped and spun in the air with a chiming note, then dropped back into Ksenia’s palm.

The family crest from the manor’s rose window was delicately etched into the surface. This coin was enough to feed and house her for several years—at least.

“You clever woman. You finally figured it out.” Varka’s grin beamed from ear to ear. “That is your token to enter the Sevrant trials.”

Ksenia’s smugness was short-lived as another glaring concern consumed her mind.

“But why is he staying here? How do you expect him not to assassinate me in my sleep?” Ksenia ground her molars as Varka happily balanced the sword in her hand.

If Ksenia slipped up and Bohdan found out she was a bondsmith, she would meet yet another early death. She could hardly believe that Varka allowed him into Beranek Manor. Her suspicions had led her to think that Varka was a Bound Eye supporter, so letting Bohdan, the captain of the Envorsen, over the threshold was like dancing with death.

“Because as much as I detest the bastard, he is still part kin to me.” Varka clapped a hand on Ksenia’s shoulder, but the action was hollow.

Ksenia schooled herself not to trust so quickly. Varka may have made grand claims about wanting revenge against Karsan, but her motives and memory around the king could be questionable. There was no telling how far Karsan’s compulsion reached.

Ksenia shuddered, remembering how people in Brannfels had turned on bondsmith families they’d known their whole lives—betraying people they’d lived beside for years.

“Come to dinner tonight. I don’t think I can manage a whole meal alone with him.” Varka shuddered.

“You’re reinstating my meal privileges so you don’t have to dine with your half-brother?” Ksenia cocked a brow.

“Consider it part of your training. We’ve gone over fighting, scheming, and stealing—but don’t forget you’re going to have to survive at court. A lot of that job is done without a knife.”

13

“You play a great commoner, of course. I even believed you to be a feral vagabond when I first set eyes on you, with those ragged clothes.” Varka rifled through Ksenia’s wardrobe. “But you wouldn’t pass for a lady of the court for a second.” She spotted the pilfered house staff uniform. “Maybe not even a servant woman.”

Heat rose in Ksenia’s face. “You’re the least ladylike person around,” she countered.

“I’m in the comforts of my own home—I don’t have to put on an act.” Varka yawned.

Ksenia bit the inside of her cheek. How would Varka’s behavior change if she visited Hearth? And would she be able to resist Radegast’s compulsion?

Varka rolled her tunic sleeves over her elbows, then draped multiple outfits over her arm.

Ksenia stared at the garments as Varka laid them upon the bed. Heavy brocade, airy silk, and brushed velvet in varying jewel tones. Fitted bodices with intricate lacework and beading.

“You want me to dress like…that?”

“I want you to survive Hearth. And survival at court requires different weapons than the ones you’ve been training with.” Varka heaved out more garments from the wardrobe.

“I know how to dress myself.” Ksenia fixed her with a withering look.

“Tonight you will wear this—and that’s an order.” She leveled a finger at Ksenia. “Observe how they interact with you. Observe what they say, what they assume, and what they let slip because of who they think you are.”

“Who is ‘they’? I thought it was just dinner with you and Bohdan tonight.” Ksenia fiddled with the silken tassel on the bed curtains.

“It’s a bit higher stakes than that.”

Ksenia couldn’t imagine what would be higher stakes than sitting across from the bondsmith executioner himself, other than the butcher king.