will take.”
Rehada felt the blood drain from her face. The look in his eyes as he stared at the stone above him was one of satisfaction, of something akin to smugness. He believed that the fates had shined on them, but also that this was her reward for taking Atiana without his leave.
“Where must I bring her?”
“To the lake in Iramanshah.”
CHAPTER 37
As the door to her cell opened, Atiana remained seated at the lone table. She was expecting her noon meal. She hadn’t been spoken to by anyone from the Khalakovo family since she’d been placed here-only guardsmen bearing food and clearing her chamber pots and providing water and the occasional clean dress to wear-so she expected nothing but more of the same. A strelet did enter-the serious one she saw most often-but he merely bowed his head and stepped to one side, allowing Yvanna Khalakovo to stride in with a silver tray.
As the strelet closed the door, Yvanna set the tray down and sat across from Atiana. The lids of her eyes were heavy. She seemed unable to focus, but then she seemed to remember who and where she was, and she motioned to the tray, almost angrily. “You must be hungry.”
The tray held a plate covered by a polished silver dome, ornate utensils, and a carafe of white wine sitting next to an empty wine glass. The scent of roasted goat and onion and garlic was heavy in the air. Atiana was not merely hungry-she was ravenous-but she refused to show it in front of Yvanna, so she stood instead and moved to her bed.
“What is it you want?” Atiana asked.
Yvanna took a deep breath, seeming to gain a bit of vitality as she did so. “I need to speak to you of the dark.”
“What of it?”
“You know of the boy, Nasim? The one who-”
“Of course I know of him.”
“Of course-of course you do. Did you ever see him?”
She meant in the aether, but Atiana had not seen him long before Mother and the other Matri had pulled her away, so she shook her head, confused over why Yvanna would ask.
“I need the truth.”
“I saw him, but only for a few moments, just before Saphia tried to assume him.”
If Yvanna was concerned by Atiana’s knowledge of the forbidden practice, she didn’t show it. “He is… He is powerful, Atiana. More powerful than any of us could have guessed.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft, as if she feared being overheard. “Mother did try to assume him. He stood against her and won. She’s been unconscious since.”
“Her need must have been great to take such a risk.”
“The Matra wanted some sense of what he was about, whether he had anything to do with the summoning of the suurahezhan.”
“How is she now?”
“She has not woken since the night of the betrayal.”
“Is that what they’re calling it?”
One eyebrow on Yvanna’s elegant face rose. “What would you call it?”
So deep was her shame over what her father had done that Atiana could not respond.
Yvanna’s anger drained away, and she suddenly became reluctant to meet Atiana’s eyes. “She grows weaker every day. My difficulties with the dark continue, and I would ask…” Yvanna licked her lips. “I would ask for you to take the dark, to see if you might help.”
Atiana tilted her head. “Victania is trained in the dark, is she not?”
Yvanna did meet Atiana’s eyes then. There was no anger, only resignation. “She is no longer able to.” She smoothed the tablecloth absently. “Perhaps from the wasting. Perhaps from the storms over Khalakovo. No matter what she does, she wakes within minutes of slipping under.”
“Is it the same for you?”
“ Nyet. I can no longer enter. Victania has the potential to be as strong as Saphia, but she tries too hard. The aether has come to mistrust her, or she mistrusts it, and she overcompensates.”
“And you wish me to help?”
“She was to be your mother.”
“She is head of the family that is holding me hostage.”
“You are a member of a sisterhood. You cannot turn your back on it now.”
“A rather convenient perspective, don’t you think? The Grand Duchy has been split, and here I stand with one leg on either side. What I do here might tip the conflict in your favor.”
“You are thinking like the men.”
“I sit here because of the men.”
“It is a baseless conflict.”
“Yvanna, come. When has reason ever stood in the way of politics?”
“My mother needs you.”
Atiana paused, remembering the way Saphia had spoken to her. She had not been kind, but neither had she been harsh. She had been matter-of-fact, and that was something to be valued among the halls of the Duchies.
“If you need it,” Atiana said at last, “I will try.”
Yvanna stood, a grateful smile on her face. “Then come.”
They were heading for the door when the strelet unlocked it. Victania strode in, her face a picture of rage. As she stared at Atiana and Yvanna, she seemed to gather strength, like an approaching storm cloud before it unleashes its fury. “You would come to her for help?”
“We need her, Victania.”
“We need many things, Yvanna, but a forgotten Vostroman whelp isn’t one of them.”
“Would you abandon your mother to her fate?”
“Leave us, Yvanna.”
Yvanna stood, pulling herself to her full height, which was still a half-head shorter than Victania.
Victania stabbed her finger toward the door. “I said leave us!”
Yvanna glanced at Atiana, a brief look of apology on her face, and then she strode from the room.
“I would help your mother if I could,” Atiana said.
“You are deranged,” Victania said as she stepped forward, “if you think I would let you near my mother. It is because of your family that she is ill.”
Atiana met her, refusing to be cowed. “It is because of her presumption. Nasim is no rook to be assumed as she will.”
Victania’s hand lashed out and struck Atiana across one cheek. Her cheek flared white with pain as her head snapped to one side.
“Do not think to judge my mother,” Victania said.
Atiana’s chest heaved as she fought down her anger. She nearly raised her fist, but thought better of it-it was the very thing Victania was hoping for. Instead, she sat at the table, ignoring Victania as she began eating the food from her tray. She refused to meet Victania’s gaze, so she couldn’t judge her reaction, but she could sense the tightness in Victania’s stance, could hear the rapid pace of her breathing.
She thought it a small victory, but when Victania strode from the room, her footsteps echoed down the hallway in sharp, satisfied strokes, making Atiana feel small and defeated.
Two days passed. The routine of the previous days resumed: meals and water brought only by the guardsmen. She nearly asked them to speak to Yvanna, but decided against it, wagering that Victania had left strict orders to be informed of any such overture.
