Magic of Talisman and Blood (Curse of the Ctyri Book 2)

by Raye Wagner

  She stared at Nikolai, seeing the boy she’d once loved and the man he was becoming. She couldn’t refuse him, and her answer came out breathy as she said, “Yes.”

  “Would you have married me instead? If you were given the choice, would you have stayed?”

  26

  Vasi stared into Nikolai’s hopeful eyes and wished she could lie to him. She’d loved him once, and the feelings weren’t completely gone. But to be forced into marriage? Dropping her chin, she shook her head. “Only if it would’ve saved my father.”

  “I see.” He stepped back.

  The pain in his voice made her call out, “Nikolai, wait.”

  He halted, one hand reaching for the door.

  Vasi hurried over and grabbed his arm. “It’s just . . . I don’t trust you. I want to, but I don’t.”

  He faced her, his eyes lighting from within with something akin to hope. “Well, then I will earn your trust. I had it once; I know I did.”

  He took a deep breath and closed the distance between them. Reaching for her again, he murmured, “Vasi.”

  A stirring of eagerness rose from deep within her breast. Even with everything, she wanted him to kiss her. The emotion was unexpected, exciting, and terrifying, all rolled into one, and the uneasy mixture held her captive.

  The sounds of a horse galloping drew near, but the rider slowed the pace as he approached.

  “Prince Nikolai?” Lord Baine shouted from the roadway. “Highness? Are you here? I see your horse.”

  Vasi’s eyes widened in horror. “If he finds me . . .”

  “Cousin,” Nikolai called back. He brushed his thumb over Vasi’s lips and mouthed it will be okay. Then he stepped out of the dilapidated shack. “I beg your pardon. I needed a moment to process our earlier conversation, and this was the first shelter I found.” He chuckled. “Although it is quite dreadful. You should make up your mind if you want to tear it down or fix it up.”

  “Yes,” the duke replied. “I’ve been debating, but I don’t have either the time or resources to spare.”

  “Really?” said the prince. “I have to say it’s almost as bad as the rest of your dukedom. I think every person I’ve seen on the road today is far too thin.”

  “We are at war, and there is a dearth. We’re all a little thinner, Highness.” The duke’s tone hardened defensively. “If I had more, I would certainly do more to help my loyal subjects, just like your father.”

  Vasi scooted to the wall closest to the road and found a gap in the panels. Peeking through, she could just make out the prince and his frown.

  “Yes. I’m sure you would. Where are you off to now? Are you headed back to Rizy?”

  “Not yet. I have something I need to check on first. I heard a young woman was spotted in my fields, and she matches the description of one of my . . . servants. A woman who recently deserted her post. I’m determined to catch her.”

  “She must be incredibly talented for you to put yourself out,” the prince said with a chuckle.

  Lord Baine’s eyes gleamed with hunger, and he wet his lips. “She is my prize possession.”

  There was a low shuffling sound beside her, and then a hand covered Vasi’s mouth.

  “Don’t scream. It’s only me,” Henryk whispered, his lips brushing her ear.

  Vasi couldn’t help but jump, but his hand effectively silenced her cry of surprise. She turned to the dark-haired prince, her heart racing.

  He withdrew his hands slowly and then held them up in surrender. His gray eyes shone bright, and he studied Vasi. “I came to convince you to reconsider marrying my brother.”

  “What?” The smile forming on her lips fell away as disappointment crashed into her. “Go away, Henryk. I have no time for this game,” Vasi whispered before turning back toward the gap in the shack wall. Anxiety about the task crawled over her, and her attention was torn. “How did you even get in here?”

  “Game? Well, that’s unfair,” he said, leaning against a stack of crates, ignoring her question. His tentative smile deepened into his characteristic smirk. “I’ve only tried to help you.”

  She swallowed her aimless retort as guilt settled in her stomach. Vasi remembered his arm around her waist as he took her back to the witch’s hut. “I’m sorry. I . . . I was startled by your foolishness because my thoughts were elsewhere.”

  He merely shrugged. “Yes, I heard. From what you told Nikolai, it was his fault and Marika’s for your desperate flight from matrimony. I definitely didn’t tell him to announce his intentions. My brother is far too open and honest. He’ll either make the worst monarch in history or the best.” He raised his eyebrows. “And that, my dear, is where you come in—”

  “You eavesdropped on our conversation?” she said, aghast. She glanced around the shack and saw the crates stood tall enough for anyone to hide behind. “How long were you listening?”

  Henryk grinned, looking particularly wicked in the low light.

  Vasi would die of mortification later, but she couldn’t stop from blushing. “And you’re here to convince me to marry your brother?”

  “I am,” he said, his gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes. When he continued, his voice had lost some of its certainty. “I think it would be best for . . . him and Beloch.”

  “But what about my welfare or . . . desire?”—she frowned and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture—“No reason for that to enter into that equation.”

  Prince Henryk leaned in closer, so close Vasi smelled the woody scent of night blooming jessamine on him.

  “What do you desire, Vasilisa?” he asked.

  “Why should I tell you? Obviously you don’t care.” Vasi rolled her eyes and turned her attention to what was happening outside the shack. Prince Nikolai and Lord Baine were still talking pleasantly about lands and villagers, avoiding the true issues.

  “He’s very handsome,” Henryk whispered in her ear.

  His breath warmed her skin, making her shiver. But she wouldn’t deign to acknowledge him. He was the scoundrel prince.

  “Smart. Funny. True-hearted,” he continued. “He’s always loved you. And he will for his entire life. You’re all he sees.”

  Vasi flinched, pulling away from Henryk as his words reminded her of her childhood dream. Impossible dream.

  “You want me to be with your brother and not . . .” Her thoughts scattered as she stared up into Henryk’s silver eyes. He was so very close. Her heart thumped, and a kindling of desire blossomed in her chest. If either of them leaned, even a little, they would kiss. Her lips parted, and she sucked in a shallow breath. She wanted to know if Henryk wanted her, but she was terrified of his response. Instead, Vasi gathered her thoughts and asked, “Roza?”

  Henryk’s eyes dropped to Vasi’s lips as if he were considering her unasked question. “What I want doesn’t matter, Vasi. It will never matter. I must focus on what is best for my kingdom.”

  Vasi froze as the sense of repetition connected in her mind. “I’ve heard those words before, from you . . . and another being.”

  Henryk frowned, and his gaze hardened. “Another being? Was it, perhaps, Nikolai? Or my father? Even your father probably said something similar. They’re common enough words to say, but I actually mean them.” He drew back, and his features became an impassive mask. “Unfortunately, I can’t think about what you or I desire; I’m forced to focus on what an entire kingdom needs—and that is a good tsar. You will make Nikolai a good ruler.”

  But Vasi’s suspicion about Henryk and Aksel seemed stronger than coincidence. Was it even possible? If Henryk was really one of the Four Horsemen, then what could his power do? “Nikolai said you spotted me today,” Vasi said, studying the prince’s handsome, and now grinning face. She narrowed her eyes and asked, “When did you see me, precisely? Your eyes met mine across the crowd—”

  “I saw you digging in the fields,” he said, and laughter laced his voice as if the scene had been hilarious.

  Oh. Doubt crept in
where suspicion had resided. What had she been thinking? That because the Horseman said similar words to the prince, they were one and the same? What a silly, romantic notion with absolutely no merit. And then, Henryk’s words set in. He saw her in the fields.

  Vasi blanched. “Did you see . . . what I did there?”

  A gleam lit in Henryk’s silvery eyes. “You want to know if I saw you . . . dig?”

  Vasi glared. “Funny. For all your professing that you want to help me, you could’ve stopped to actually help.”

  “I couldn’t then. And I can’t help you so much in the future either, Vasilisa,” he said, stepping several paces away. “But I will tell you this: Consider my brother; he’s had a much more difficult life than you would guess. And he might be Beloch’s only hope.”

  With that, he pivoted and strolled to the entrance, seeming to blend with the shadows before he squeezed through the gaping door and left Vasi alone.

  Blinking a couple times at where he’d just been, Vasi tucked away her suspicion, determined to address it the next time she saw Aksel. There was definitely something more to the dark prince. With a deep breath, she turned her attention back to Nikolai’s conversation with Lord Baine, not at all surprised when Henryk didn’t join them. She leaned toward the gaps in the shack, listening hard, hoping she hadn’t missed anything important regarding the task.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to your search then,” Nikolai was saying. He turned, as if to go to his horse, and then faced the duke again. “By the way, there is a decree that all fields that have been harvested will be open to be gleaned, even the royal lands. This famine is taking its toll on all of our subjects, and they deserve our mercy.”

  The duke nodded. “Of course, Your Highness. I can have the crier announce it at our sundown curfew. The poor can glean all day tomorrow.”

  The prince smiled. “I’ll have him announce now. Perhaps some will find enough food to go to bed with a full belly.” Nikolai mounted his horse and turned east. “I wish you luck on your hunt for your servant.”

  Lord Baine raised his arm and pointed down the road the prince was facing. “Both the eastern and northern fields have been harvested and these here as well. All of those can be opened for gleaning. They won’t find much, but I see your wisdom in giving the people hope at no expense to us.”

  Vasi covered her mouth to hold in a snicker. She wanted to follow so she could see the duke’s face when he realized what he’d given away.

  The prince galloped off, and Lord Baine watched the young man, his lip curling up in a sneer. Then he, too, pulled on his horse’s reins and galloped into his dukedom.

  Vasi breathed a sigh of relief. She’d done it. She’d found a way to get the vegetables to grow, and now the residents would be able to eat. She stepped from behind the shelter, waited several seconds before inching through the parched grass, her gaze darting around as she made her way to the road.

  She sighed with relief and turned her back on Strasny and her completed task. The sound of thundering hooves behind her made her cry out as she turned to face the once empty road.

  Run!

  The doll’s voice was on the edge of hysteria, and Vasi took off before she even knew which way she was going. Her heart raced, and she ran as fast as she could.

  “Vasilisa,” Lord Baine shouted from behind her.

  Dread exploded, bathing her in its terror. She pumped her arms, desperate to escape, but her hard labor took a toll, and her fatigue slowed her pace. How had he appeared like that?

  The sun hung low in the sky, and suddenly Vasi wished the day would be over. Even being eaten by Baba Yaga wouldn’t be as bad as the Duke of Strasny. Tears streamed from Vasi’s eyes, and her heart thumped in her chest as if it, too, were desperate to escape.

  A gleaming-white stallion leapt over the fence, and Pokor pulled the beast to a stop in front of Vasi. The white rider held out his hand, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. “My Lady, you’ve completed your first task. I think it best if we depart.”

  Vasi grabbed his hand, and he pulled her up onto the horse. Relief broke from her chest in a ragged sob. She turned and hugged the Horseman saying, “Thank you.”

  He patted her awkwardly as if he’d never been hugged before and didn’t know what to do with the expression of affection. “Of course.”

  She faced forward and noticed the bright light radiating around them, almost like a glowing soap bubble. They cantered past a frozen Lord Baine.

  “What happened to him?” Vasi whispered.

  “He is strong, but I won’t let him interfere with your task. He’ll return to normal after we depart.” The man behind her chuckled, and his laughter rumbled through her back, comforting her. “Besides, not only Baba Yaga would be upset if . . . that happened.”

  “If what happened?” Vasi asked as she gripped onto the saddle before her.

  “If you were taken by the slaver. I would not want to face my brother . . . or the witch if I lost you to him. And you will have the opportunity for another test.”

  “Impossible test,” Vasi grumbled to herself. Exhaustion washed over her as trees streaked past, and knowing that she’d completed the task, at least in its meaning, she let her body sag, doing her best to keep from leaning against the rider.

  “If your task was impossible, how did you succeed?”

  A smile played on Vasi’s lips, and she said, “Magic.”

  He chuckled. “You are stronger than you seem. I can see why he loves you. I hope my bride will be as strong. I’m glad the witch had me ride with you today, Vasilisa. I have learned much. If I can ever be of assistance to you, know I am in your debt.”

  His comment about his bride struck Vasi as odd, but she had no time to reply or ask about Horsemen, brides, or how he could possibly be in her debt. The white Horsemen kicked his steed, the force throwing Vasi back into his chest as the trees morphed into nothing but smears of brown and green. The Horseman’s bone-chilling laugh reverberated through Vasi’s back, but she was too weary to care. Vasi closed her eyes, knowing she was safe, at least for now, and told herself she would forget the princes’ touches. She would forget their words and how she felt, especially toward Nikolai. Honor was more important than pride. She resigned herself to the fact that he would soon be married to her sister. Vasi had only enough room in her mind for one goal, and that was saving her father.

  27

  Adaline

  Adaline tucked her blond hair underneath the black leather cap and then adjusted her borrowed armor. Evzan assured her that the squire it had been commandeered from had been well-compensated for the equipment, but Adaline insisted he get it back when they were done.

  Orikrod surrendered shortly after Adaline and Evzan blew up the gate. The duke of Orikrod hovered somewhere in his mid-fifties and was smart enough to know fighting the Cervenean army would only lead to the slaughter of his people while delaying the inevitable.

  “Lord Wilkin, the Duke of Orikrod, offered sanctuary to all of the villages within his dukedom, thinking our army would bypass his fortress when we discovered it was impenetrable,” Tredak informed her as they approached the city on horse. “Unfortunately for Lord Wilkin and his subjects, we had you.” He winked. “I think you’ll find Wilkin a reasonable man, willing to negotiate for peace.”

  “Excuse me if I’m now a tad suspicious of your assessments, Tredak. You also said the near-deadly djinn magic wouldn’t hurt.” Adaline rubbed her hand though the splintering pain was long gone. Glancing at Evzan, she said, “What say you, General?”

  Her guard met her gaze, and Adaline’s heart flipped when he gave her a half-smile.

  “The generals said as much,” Evzan said, agreeing with Tredak. “Two are waiting with the duke now. It should be easy to negotiate terms of surrender.”

  Gunhild harrumphed on Adaline’s other side. The Mala general hadn’t bothered to wash off the sweat, dirt, and blood of the battle. Crimson stained sections of her wide, flaxen braid. The large woman’s stee
d looked more beast than horse, bigger even than Evzan’s mount, and the Mala towered over all of them. “Don’t ever believe third-mouthed information,” Gunhild said in Mal-mal. “It’ll lead to stupid decisions, at best.”

  “Knowledge and experience lead to wisdom, not gossip,” Tredak replied in Mal-mal, reciting one of the few well-known sayings from the warrior-people.

  “Wisdom can’t be taught,” Gunhild said. “And there is a price for it.” She turned her gaze to Sir Tredak and said, “If you want trust from mortals, Dark knight, act with honor to your sovereign.”

  Sir Tredak frowned at the imposing woman, his eyes narrowing in a troubled expression. He rode silently for several moments before replying. “You speak rightly, Velyvir Gunhilda.” He paused after saying her name with the title of respect before it, but his emphasis was on the a at the end of her name, as if removing the masculinity from her name wouldn’t, or perhaps shouldn’t, lessen her status. “But not all acts will be understood with mortal eyes, and honor transcends the Lumea.” He turned to Adaline and added in Cervenish-common, “I apologize for misinforming you about the djinn relic. Because you are a null, I did not believe it would hurt you.”

  Gunhild narrowed her eyes while he addressed Adaline. When he was done talking, the general said, “Your wisdom is wider and deeper than you let others believe, Visst Linjyl.”

  Visst Linjyl. Wise ruler. One of the highest compliments from the Malas, rarely bestowed on an outsider. Adaline glanced between Gunhild and Tredak, the sneaking suspicion about the knight’s power grew. Tredak was definitely far more than just a knight, and she wondered how much magic he possessed.

  General Duglig cleared his throat behind Adaline and said, “Behorig and Zana are with Lord Wilkin at his manor. They await you there.” He rode forward, and his gaze shifted uneasily around the other members of the party before settling on Evzan. “It would be my honor to lead you there.”