She took a sip, feeling the pleasant burn trail down her throat. “Then you’ll just have to protect me,” she said, handing the snifter back.
“Don’t I always?” Borund replied.
Atiana smiled and tipped her head until it rested on his shoulder. “Soon you won’t have to.”
Borund went silent and deathly still.
“He will be my husband, Borund.”
“Things are not so clear as they were a week ago.”
“How surprising you’ve sided with Father.”
“This Council smells foul, Tiana. I know you sense it too.”
Atiana pulled away and faced him. He wore a brown kaftan, and his beard had grown longer, giving him the look of a scowling bear.
“Why are men so distrustful?”
“Because there’s always trouble about, especially when you’re not looking for it.”
Atiana reached up and smoothed the cloth of his kaftan. “Don’t think it isn’t appreciated, but really, I think there’s little enough to worry about.”
“There you’re wrong, sister. Trouble has come, and it’s already started to simmer. Father has ordered two more ships sent to Khalakovo.”
Atiana’s brow creased. “What of Leonid and Bolgravya?”
“Them as well.”
“Why?”
“To prevent Khalakovo from dictating terms.”
“They’ve done nothing of the sort.”
“Tiana, just because a dog has never bitten you is no reason to believe it won’t someday do so. It’s why you put them on a leash and whip them when they misbehave.”
“This is madness. Everything will be resolved shortly.”
“If that is so, then the ships will be sent home. No harm done.”
“Perhaps no harm, but certainly insult. Saphia will learn of it.”
Borund shrugged. “The offense to Khalakovo is a risk we’re willing to take.”
“We are guests here.”
Borund snorted anddowned therestof thevodkainone gulp. “Guests… Have you not been here these last five days? We have heard nothing from the Khalakovos since Stasa’s death. Nothing. Ranos has come twice, and he did little more than prattle about inquiries. Nikandr came once to ask me to hunt with him. To hunt! As if we were still boys hoping to while away our time far from the foolishness of Council. And Iaros, that coward, has hidden himself away ever since that farce of a speech by the Matra. Nothing will come of their inquiries. They will attempt to blow this over as if it had never happened, and then-mark my words-they will attempt to install Iaros as Grand Duke, and they’ll expect us to smile as he takes his seat.”
Borund’s face had filled with color as he talked until he was positively red. She had had no idea he was so angry over the matter. He had, for the last several years, become progressively more absent from Galostina as he shouldered more of the shipping contracts to Yrstanla. Their time together had become by necessity more brief and perfunctory. Here, with the death of the Grand Duke so fresh in everyone’s minds and tempers starting to rise, she realized how similar to their father he had become.
As she worked this through in her mind, another realization struck her full in the face: she had become protective of Nikandr, even against Borund. She had come to Khalakovo dutifully, ready to fulfill the needs of her family. She hadn’t expected to feel more for Nikandr than that. Yet the way he had tried to best her at the dance those many nights ago-he had been obstinate about it, true, but she also felt like he had been doing it to win her over, like he had truly wanted to show everyone in the room that he would win her affection. Perhaps she was fooling herself, but she felt in her heart she was right.
Aunt Katerina waved Atiana over. “Come, niece. I grow tired of winning.”
Katerina and Ishkyna were sitting at a large ebony table pitting their skills at trump against those of Mileva and Grigory’s young cousin, Ivan. Katerina wore a fine black dress and her dark hair was tucked under a beaded cap. Her traditional raiment contrasted sharply with Atiana and her sisters, who wore embroidered dresses of emerald green, their hair high and powdered with lazy ringlets falling near their ears. Ivan, a boy of only fifteen, looked like a peasant among queens, but he didn’t seem to mind-or notice for that matter-for he could be caught staring doe-eyed at Mileva as often as he did his cards.
Atiana’s stomach was turning too much for her to sit still for any amount of time, but before she could decline, the doors of the solarium opened, and in strode Father, bootsteps echoing, looking as cross as he ever had.
Without saying another word, Borund moved to meet him. Katerina stood as well, her dress sighing as it slid over the parquet floor. “What news?” she asked.
Father glanced at Atiana and then pulled Borund and Katerina away to speak with Grigory and Leonid.
A shiver traveled along Atiana’s frame. Father had been treating her as if she’d already married Nikandr, as if Ishkyna’s prediction of shifting allegiances had already come true. She moved casually to the card table and took the vacant chair, doing her best to feign indifference.
“Don’t mind him,” Ishkyna said while dealing the cards with practiced ease. “He only fears you’ll let something slip should you ever be allowed to meet Nikandr again.”
Atiana sorted her hand, unwilling to admit that Father had gotten to her over the last few days. “I bid three.”
Ivan, having paid much more attention to the three sisters than he did his own hand, quickly ordered his cards. “Four,” he said, more of a question than a statement.
Ishkyna glanced at Ivan and rolled her eyes. She leaned in toward the table. “It’s just us, Tiana. You don’t have to hide the fact that you’re enamored of him. I bid six.”
“Ah, but she does, Shkyna,” Mileva said. “What would good Bolgravya think if she were to show any outward sign of affection toward Khalakovo? Seven.”
Ivan’s face went bright red. Had he been older-or had hotter blood run through his veins-he would have stood from the table and left, but he was clearly enamored of the sisters, Mileva in particular.
Atiana set down her cards, allowing Mileva to capture the blind. “Show some respect.” She squeezed Ivan’s wrist tenderly. “He has lost much this week.”
“Ivan knows how much respect I have for him and his family. It was a warning for you, sister.” Mileva finished selecting her final hand and they began playing, the sisters moving quickly, practically without thought, Ivan choosing his cards carefully, often looking to Mileva for approval as if she could somehow see his cards before he played them.
“And why would I need a warning, Leva?”
“Because,” Ishkyna answered forher, “it’s clear to everyone you’re chafing at the bit to gallop for Khalakovo when you should be headed home.”
Atiana slapped her highest trump onto the table and swept in the trick. “I had a notion that this was my home now.”
Mileva took the next. “The longer we stay, sister, the likelier it will be that your wedding bed will forever stay cold.”
Atiana wanted to scoff, but there was a ring of truth to those words. She had thought the matter would be settled within a day, but then came rumor that the Khalakovos had found a Landless qiram and were questioning him deep beneath the palotza. They neither confirmed nor denied the rumor, but Leonid had men asking about Volgorod for news, and they said that some of the Landless had come to the palotza, treating with Iaros to have their kinsman back.
“Perhaps if you spoke with young Khalakovo, away from prying ears.”
Atiana did not look at Ivan. She knew that this was as much for his ears as it was for hers. “And just how would I do that?” she asked, providing the requisite nibble on the bait.
Mileva shrugged. “There are hidden hallways in Radiskoye, are there not, as there are in Galostina? I would even wager that Zvayodensk has a tunnel or two hidden away from curious eyes.”
Ivan blushed again, playing a pitiful, off-suited card.
