She glanced at Atiana’s door, then her head tilted toward her room, and finally her gaze returned to Nikandr, daring him to take this one step further. When it was clear he would not, she took a half step back and said, “Pity,” and then she turned the handle of Atiana’s room. It swung open soundlessly as Ishkyna swept back to her room and closed her door behind her.
CHAPTER 13
Atiana heard the click of a door opening. She was so tired she thought she was in her own bed within Palotza Galostina, and she fell immediately back to sleep. But then she heard a single word being spoken, soft but clear- “Pity”-and soon thereafter came the faint sound of a door closing.
She sat up, saw the silhouette of a man, his back to her, the light from the lamp he held wavering over the walls and ceiling.
“Who’s there?”
The floorboards creaked as Nikandr turned. “May we speak?” he asked softly.
She shivered though she was not cold. When they had touched stones, standing outside the palotza walls, she had felt the disease gnawing away at him, slowly but surely. She had touched stones with others and felt similar things, but it had been so strong with Nikandr. It had felt for a moment as if she had had the wasting, and it had shaken her.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Atiana, I merely wish to explain.”
“There’s little enough to explain. You lied.”
He nodded. “I did, to everyone else, but I chose to share it with you.” He sat on the edge of her bed, his face growing worried. “The Khalakovos need this marriage, as does your family.”
She felt a lump forming in her throat. She understood what he’d done, even shortly after touching stones. What he failed to understand is how she might react to it. To him, this marriage was a burden, and he probably felt she shared his opinion.
“It would be foolish,” he continued, “to jeopardize that by telling your father of something that cannot be changed. No one has to know. In another week, Council will be over, and they’ll all be gone. I’ll reveal everything once it’s safe.”
“Safe from what? Why hide it in the first place?”
He stared at the lamp he still held in one hand. “I thought I could cure it. I thought, somehow, I’d be able to find a way. There are those…”
“What, that live with the disease? They all succumb eventually, Nikandr.”
“I know.” He stared at her, his eyes brimming with emotion.
“You must have known all this. Victania…” She stopped, because she realized what Nikandr had been hoping to do. He had hoped to cure himself, true, but he was desperate to save Victania.
It was touching, his connection to his sister, but also selfish. There were two families to consider in his decision.
But that wasn’t what hurt the worst. Atiana had come to Khalakovo, despite the constant words of her sisters, with hope-hope that Nikandr would accept her; hope that they could come to love one another; hope that she would one day bear his children, and that they would grow to be strong. She didn’t want a marriage like Mileva, who shared with her husband a cold tolerance for one another. She didn’t want to live like Ishkyna, who moved among beds as rapidly as she could, as if that could somehow fill the life her cruel husband drained from her. She didn’t even want a marriage like Mother and Father, where one took knee for the other. She wanted respect. She wanted love. She wanted passion.
Perhaps that had been a foolish list of demands with which to land on Khalakovo’s shores. Perhaps she should be happy that she knew him well, and that he would most likely come to tolerate her. But she was who she was, and she could see clearly now that she would take second seat to Nikandr’s other women: his mother, his sister, even the Aramahn whore he was rumored to be in love with.
“Tell me, Nikandr, would you do for me as you do for Victania?”
The answer was plain in his eyes.
“Then perhaps there is no need for marriage. Perhaps our fathers will allow the documents to live without the compact of blood.”
“You know they won’t.”
“ Nyet. Perhaps you’re right.” How foolish she’d been, to think that he would welcome her. “Go,” she said. “I’ll not reveal your precious secret.” Her resolve finally broke, and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
He stared at her with a confused look on his face.
Rather than let him stare at her, she lay down, facing away from him. “Go!”
After a moment, the shadows being thrown around the room waved wildly, and he left without another word.
Then, alone once more, she allowed herself to cry.
Atiana stood before a tall mirror and took a deep breath while her handmaid pulled mercilessly at her corset strings. Mileva stood next to her in the same state of dress while Ishkyna sat on the bed, cross-legged, wearing only her shift.
Her future sister, Victania, stood nearby, watching with a critical eye. It was early in the morning, and the Grand Duke was not set to arrive until after noon, and still Victania’s powdered wig and white makeup were impeccable. One would think that the wasting would make her appear weak, but in fact it was just the opposite; though she was frail physically, she had the air of a woman who had taken the disease by the throat, refusing to grant it an inch. It was something Atiana might admire if Victania didn’t treat her as if she were a symptom of the wasting.
Victania stepped between Atiana and the mirror, looking more closely at her hair. She reached out, checking the length at her ears, and it was all Atiana could do not to pull away.
Victania’s mouth pursed. “You won’t be infected,” she said as she continued to draw Atiana’s hair along the side of her cheeks.
“I wasn’t thinking that I would.”
Victania’s sharp eyes focused on hers. “ Nyet?”
Atiana remained silent, a surge of jealousy rising up within her. She could never hope to compete with Victania for Nikandr’s love.
Victania moved behind her and checked the back. “I’ll send for the barber,” she said, dropping Atiana’s hair as if it had insulted her.
The door to the room opened, and Yvanna Khalakovo, Ranos’s wife, stepped inside, dressed as impeccably as her sister.
“Khazabyirsk has arrived,” she said to Victania, “and they’re flying the wounded flag.”
Victania looked sternly between the girls and Yvanna. “They won’t be ready in time.”
Yvanna nodded. “The Duke will understand, of course.”
“ Da, but I doubt that Mother will.” Victania stiffened her jaw and released a pent-up breath. “Be ready, girls, by the time we return.” And with that she and Yvanna were gone.
Ishkyna rolled her eyes. “Be ready, girls.”
“Mind your manners,” Atiana said.
Ishkyna stared at her impassively. “As if the Dame of Khalakovo would deign to listen at doors.”
Mileva smiled. “You would think she’s getting married.”
“She probably wishes she were,” Ishkyna said as she fell back on the bed. “She loves no one more than her precious Nischka.”
“Shkyna!” Atiana said, though the thoughts echoed her own. “In a day she’ll be my sister.”
As her corset strings were cinched even tighter, Atiana tried to smooth the goose bumps on her arms. The wind was howling outside, which only served to remind her of how long she would have to wait as the flotilla of royalty arrived. The royal eyrie had been cleared for the event, but it would still take hours for all seven ships to
