"Bringing him for a decent burial is the least you could do. They will not be lenient because of it. I shall see to that," she said. "You will still hang for – "
That's when she felt it. A whisper of magic, like the slightest breath of a breeze, between them. It wasn't the bear, and it wasn't her, which meant it had to come from the boy.
No. Corpses couldn't cast spells.
And yet…
She'd seen the ruin where the boy's throat had been last night. A dark hole, black in the moonlight, that appeared whole and healed now. If his head hadn't been severed, she might think…
The boy blinked. Then blinked again.
No. She'd imagined it. Surely.
"Where are the jewels? Give them back!" the boy demanded, staring at the bear. He tried to scramble to his feet, arms and legs flailing in the snow as the bear shoved him down with one massive paw, pinning him in place.
How…
Boris met her gaze and nodded, pleading for her to understand.
But what kind of monster didn't die when a bear decapitated it?
Absently, she sent a paralysis spell at the boy, like she had in the brambles, so he'd stay still without distracting her. If he was a boy, which she doubted.
Rossa closed her eyes, delving deep into the well of memories that weren't her own. Generations of spellcasters, all adding to the great store of knowledge she could access if she looked hard enough. Someone must have seen such a monster, put a name to it…
Djinn. This…thing…was a djinn, a magic user who had betrayed their king, and been sentenced to serve as a slave until the debt of disobedience was paid. Trapped in the form in which they were enslaved, unable to die, until their king released them from bondage.
She stared into the boy's furious eyes. How had she missed the magic in his blood, for only a spellcaster could be punished so? Yet as she searched his body, she found no magic at all, in his blood or bones or anywhere except for the djinn curse that lay thick upon him like armour.
Boris had not cast this curse. No wonder he'd been running from this deathless thing, which could not be killed, relentless…
Nor had he slaughtered an innocent, defenceless child.
Her mouth suddenly dry, Rossa didn't know what to say. Boris deserved an apology, if her memories were correct, but she had to be sure…
"Take him to the barn. We'll question him there," she ordered.
Boris bowed, scooped up the boy, and followed her to the now pigeon-proof barn.
Chapter 37
Rossa issued orders like an army commander, and Boris could not do anything but obey. Within moments, she had Igor tied to a post in the barn, with a magical shield crackling around the walls so that no one would hear or see what went on inside. She cast a spell on Igor, too, telling him if he lied, his tongue would catch fire, so he had better tell her the truth.
Even Boris gaped a little at that. Surely the girl who condemned him for killing the boy would not torture him so.
Would she?
Then she enthroned herself on a sack of grain and began to question the squire.
Why was he hunting this bear?
What was the bear's real name?
Why did he betray the man he'd served?
Why did he poison him?
Igor's answers could have come from Boris's own lips, for the story matched his own. More than once, he found Rossa nodding, and relief began to trickle through his veins. If she believed him, maybe she'd forgive him. Maybe…
"I didn't poison him!" Igor shouted, straining at his bonds.
Rossa rose. "You gave him the drugged drink at the feast."
"Yes, but only because I was ordered to serve him that ale. I tried to warn him, tell him not to drink so much!"
She glanced at Boris, who nodded. The boy spoke the truth. If only he'd been more forthcoming at that long-ago feast, told him about the sleeping potion in his ale…
"Why didn't you tell him what was in it?" she asked.
"I couldn't!"
"Why?"
But he clamped his mouth closed and shook his head. He would not – or could not – say.
"Did you know what the potion you gave him later would do?"
"No! Only that it was supposed to help him!"
Boris nodded again. So the boy had said, but he had not believed him then. Now…well, Igor's mouth was not ablaze, so he was telling the truth about his words then, but that didn't make those words true. He wished with all his might that he could be a man again, so that he could question the boy himself.
"Did you know the ale was drugged?" she asked.
The boy nodded.
"Why didn't you tell him? Your prince, the man you served, who you owed your loyalty to…why?"
"I couldn't!
"Why not?"
"Because the witch told me if I ever breathed a word about the potion she put in the ale, it would be the last breath I ever took!" Igor exploded.
Then he began to wheeze, trying to suck in air that would not come. His face turned red, then blue, before he hung limp from the ropes that held him.
Rossa's mouth dropped open, and she darted forward to place her fingers on the boy's neck. "He's dead!"
Boris shook his head, but Rossa did not seem to notice, for she was too busy cursing.
She pointed at him. "You – stay here with him. I'm going to…I'll…I will return. Stay hidden. No one must know you are here." She marched out of the barn, sealing the door and the shield behind her, so he could not leave, even if he wanted to.
Sealed behind a shield, with Igor dead, and Rossa no longer out for his blood, Boris was safe for the moment. This time, he felt himself change.
He flexed his hands as Igor began to stir.
This time, Boris seated himself on Rossa's throne, where the boy's gaze landed the moment his eyes opened, before they widened with horror.
"How?" Igor managed to say.
Boris picked up a knife Rossa had left behind, and began to twirl it around his finger. "I'll ask the questions, boy. And if I don't like the answers…" He threw the knife into the air, and caught it, point down.
Igor swallowed. "What do you want to know?"
Chapter 38
By the time Rossa returned, Boris and Igor had reached an accord, though the boy was currently hanging limp for the third time, looking for all the world like the corpse he'd been out in the clearing. Except with his head still attached, of course. Rossa would not like it if he turned her barn into a slaughterhouse.
"I brought some breakfast. I thought you might be hungry," she said, her eyes on the tray in her hands. When she glanced up, she nearly dropped it. "You're…not a bear!"
Boris grinned. "No. I'm not sure how it happened. Perhaps it's something about being inside your shield, but I feel…more like myself."
Rossa hurriedly set the tray down and laid her hand on his arm again. She shook her head. "Yet I can still feel the spell inside you. The bear isn't gone, only…sleeping, or something. As if waiting for the opportunity to emerge…"
Boris might not be a witch, but he'd come to a similar conclusion. "Oh, there's a purpose for it, all right. I will need its strength to drag that usurper off my father's throne and make him pay for the lives he's taken. After he's freed Igor from his curse, of course, which is why he's going to help me."
Rossa shot a sceptical glance at the lifeless boy. "You'll need to resurrect him, and get a few decent meals into him first. He's hardly in any shape to attack a king at the very heart of his power. Why, there'd be guards, knights, courtiers…he'd have no chance. Not even with your help. One bear against a company of guardsmen…I've never been to court, but even I know that is suicide."
"Come with me." Even as the words left his lips, he wished they hadn't. He'd lost the woman he loved once to Sviatopolk. He wouldn't put Rossa in danger as well.
A wry smile curved her lips. "A bear, a beggar boy and a maiden with a bow. Oh, the bards will make ballads about us, filling every court in
the land with gales of laughter that anyone could do something so stupid." She took a deep breath. "And yet…you will need me, I think. But even then, we might not be enough. If you want the king to listen, without killing us on sight, you'll need someone else. What we need is my father. He'll know what to do."
Boris opened his mouth to ask what some country baron could do against a king, but Igor took that moment to suck in an enormous, gasping breath, drawing Rossa's eyes to him.
"Is it true? Will you swear to serve Prince Boris again, as you did before, and help him right the wrongs that were done to him? Even if it means killing the king?" Rossa demanded.
Igor wet his lips. "I will."
"Will you swear not to harm Prince Boris, or anyone else unless I order you to do so? Will you promise not to run away if I untie you?"
"To all of it, I swear, my lady," Igor said.
She snapped her fingers, and the ropes around the boy slithered away to coil themselves up like a nest of snakes in the corner.
"And if I ordered you to go get a meal and a bath and clean clothes, as befitting your station as Prince Boris's squire, would you obey?"
"Gladly, my lady." Igor bowed low.
Boris hadn't noticed, but the sulkiness that had annoyed him so much before was gone from Igor's voice and expression now. How long had it been? Had he been running for years?
Boris glanced down at his clothes. He hadn't seen this tunic since the day Lida and Vica died, and it still bore traces of their blood. "Lady Rossa, might I trouble you for a bath and a change of clothing, too?"
She eyed him thoughtfully. "I'll see what I can find. We don't see many princes here in the mountains, so it may not be as fine as you are used to. At least until the passes open in spring, and my father will return."
That was at least a month away, maybe two! Boris swallowed. As a bear, he might attempt to traverse snowy mountain passes, but as a man, he'd likely die in the attempt. Even Bisseni berserkers weren't crazy enough to cross the mountains in winter.
After so long as a bear, he felt somehow diminished to stand before her as a man. Yet he bowed as low as he had dozens of times before. "I will be most grateful for whatever hospitality you offer, my lady."
When he straightened, he found Rossa blinking at him in bemusement. "Yes, I'll have to find you a bed, too, I suppose." And with that, she led the way out of the barn, gesturing for them both to follow.
Chapter 39
When Rossa rounded the corner and reached the kitchen gardens, she knew something was wrong. Too many people bustled about, fetching and carrying with a feverish intensity that told Rossa they feared the consequences if they failed in their task.
"What is it? What has happened?" she demanded of the nearest man.
"The master has arrived! Everything must be made ready!" He excused himself and hurried off.
The master? The only master Rossa knew was her father, in his role as Master Assassin. But he couldn't possibly be here – the passes were still blocked by snow, and would be for months yet.
Mother would know. Whoever was here, they would not have arrived without her knowledge. And at this hour, as she was usually to be found in the solar they used for a dining chamber instead of the draughty great hall, that's where Rossa headed.
Sure enough, Mother wasn't alone – a man and a woman stood before her, cloaked against the cold, for the fire had only recently been lit.
The man's grey cloak seemed to blend in with the wall behind him, so that her eye was drawn away from him, dismissing him, but the woman's cloak of regal purple was as vibrant as flowers in the spring. A member of the Emperor's family, perhaps? For surely only royalty could afford such costly dye.
"Rossa, I was just about to send someone to summon you," Mother said.
The pair turned, and the grey man pushed his hood off his head.
"Father!" she exclaimed, rushing to hug him. It wasn't until she pulled away from him that she felt the purple woman's eyes on her.
Amethyst eyes, like nothing Rossa had ever seen before. Drawing her in, as if with a powerful enchantment she could not resist…
Father coughed, and the spell was broken, if indeed it was a spell. "Rossa, you won't believe where I found your fairy godmother. We got to talking about you, and the more we talked, the more we agreed that it was time she paid you a visit, so she cast a portal, and here we are." He spread his hands wide. "Lady Zuleika, your god-daughter, Rossa. And Rossa, this is Zuleika. My niece."
Lady Zuleika managed a nervous smile and ducked her head. "I'm still new to this. My mother Zoraida – Master Zoticus's sister – died only recently, and I am still learning the full extent of her duties as fairy godmother. I'm sorry I haven't come to help you yet, but you seemed to be doing all right, not in need of my help yet, until Uncle told me of his vision…"
Father waved her into silence, which only intrigued Rossa more. She knew Father had visions of the future, but she'd never heard him having one about her.
"Ah, I'm not the only one who brought an important guest. Prince Boris, have you come to see the holy relics?" Father asked, striding past Rossa.
How could she have forgotten Boris and Igor?
Boris's eyes darted about, as if seeking an escape – not an uncommon response for someone meeting her father for the first time, as his reputation often preceded him – before he decided to hold his ground and offer a nervous smile to Father. "Forgive me, sir, but I do not recall where we met before today."
Father's smile was genuine, as he shook his head. "No, forgive me, Your Highness. It's just that you are so like your likeness in the cathedral, I recognised you instantly. A man with your reputation would surely have come here to pray over the holy relics my wife's ancestors brought back from their most holy crusade. The relics of the Holy Innocents, no less! It is no wonder you sought them out."
"I…" Boris seemed as lost for words as Rossa herself.
"You must stay here in the castle, with us, if Lady Sara does not object. Only our best guest chamber is good enough for such a prince!" Father said.
Mother moved to stand at Father's side, repeating his offer. Before Rossa could object, Mother whisked Zuleika, Boris and Igor off to show them their chambers.
Leaving her alone with Father. Whose gaze remained fixed on her, as he smiled, waiting for her to ask the questions that burned her tongue.
"Do you…Father, how do you know Boris?" she asked.
His smile widened. "Oh, his reputation is well-known. As a warrior, as a leader, and there are those who say he is a saint. Quite a remarkable man. I have always wondered…and now I have seen him with my own eyes. A remarkable man indeed."
A man she'd called a monster. Which she still hadn't apologised for…
Rossa ducked her head, not wanting to meet her father's eyes. Gah, she'd been so stupid. It was a good thing Father had left her at home.
"With your godmother's help, we will leave for court on the morrow. With Prince Boris, for I have an inkling he might want to leave earlier than the spring," Father said. He patted her shoulder. "If you have any suitable court clothes, you'll want to bring them, so you'd best go upstairs and pack."
"Yes, Father." Rossa was halfway up the stairs to her tower before she thought to question how Father knew all the things he did. Yet she didn't dare return downstairs to ask, lest he reconsider letting her go with him.
Finally, Father believed she was ready, though Rossa herself felt far from it.
Chapter 40
What Father had meant, Rossa discovered the next morning, was that she would need to dress for court before leaving the castle, for Zuleika could cast magic portals that allowed her, and those accompanying her, to travel instantly from one place to another. Having nothing better than the red gown she'd worn at Christmas, Rossa had put that on, which Father had insisted on ornamenting with a ruby necklace that weighed more than the belt she'd sheathed her daggers in only yesterday. Father had brought her a new cloak from Byzas, in a deep wine red that
rivalled Zuleika's for its brightness. She'd fastened it with the brooch Boris had given her, though she dreaded what her father might say when he saw it.
Boris and Igor wore clothes Mother must have found for them, all of which were very fine, yet Boris had chosen to wear his white bear skin cloak, and a crown she knew had come from the sack of treasures he'd kept in the cave. She hadn't looked too closely at it before, but now it sat in his pale hair, woven strands wrapping around his head, with a single sparkling stone in the middle of his forehead. A diamond, surely, though it was as clear as water and drank the light, sending out rainbows when the sun hit it. He looked every inch a prince.
Father chose grey, as always, but she recognised his grey finery as distinct from the grey travelling clothes he'd worn yesterday. The only jewels he wore were on his weapons, and even they were few. The king might have made him a lord in name when he married her mother, but Father himself had not changed a bit because of it.
Zuleika had refused to wear any but her own clothes, and, to Rossa's surprise, Father had simply nodded and left it at that. Zuleika was younger than Rossa, Rossa had discovered, but the ease with which she created the portal to take them to the court in Buda demonstrated that she was a far more powerful enchantress than Rossa would ever be.
Zuleika's portal had barely faded before she said, "This is where I leave you, for I am needed at another court today. It is a small matter, regarding a ball and some shoes that shall be lost, but it is nevertheless of the utmost importance. Should you have need of me, I believe my other god-daughter will no longer need my services after midnight, so I shall return then." Before any of them could say a word, she cast another portal and was gone.
Rossa looked askance at Father, who merely shrugged and said, "My mother and my sister were forever flitting about the world, seeing to the affairs of their various godchildren. My sister fought a dragon for her godson once. To hear her tell the tale, it was more of a skirmish than a battle, which did not last long, but I have it on good authority that everyone else who fought the dragon died, right up until the day someone finally slayed the dragon. As she says, if we need her, she'll be here after midnight. I'm sure we'll survive a day without her." Father offered his arm, and Rossa took it. "Let's go see the king."
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