Blessed Monsters (Something Dark and Holy #3) - Emily A. Duncan Page 0,76

were still on the ground, gave a very put out sigh.

“Oh, and this is Katya. She’s the tsarevna.”

“Dozleyena, Vashnya Delich’niy,” Anna said.

Always swayed by a pretty face, Katya grinned. “Anna, right?”

“Yes.”

“Lovely to meet you. My apologies, but we have been on the road for a very long time. I want a glass of wine and to sleep in a real bed.”

“Will you need me?” Nadya asked.

They were still in the entranceway and Nadya hadn’t truly taken it in. She had noticed the lush carpets, but now she saw the many icons hanging on the walls, and fear gripped her heart. What if they started crying like the others?

“Honestly? I’m going to bed. If you want to also go to bed, I can ensure no one bothers you.”

The thought of sleeping in a real bed was so sweet that Nadya almost broke down right there. The last stretch of their journey had been particularly miserable. She nodded emphatically. “Please.”

“Iryna, you heard her.”

“I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed,” Iryna said, sounding amused. “I’ll have food brought to your rooms, as well.”

Katya took her energetic dogs and disappeared into the halls of the palace. Nadya tried to keep her bearings but was lost almost immediately.

Iryna led Nadya to rooms that weren’t quite as spacious as her rooms in Grazyk had been, though still lush enough to be overwhelming. The woman took her leave, and Anna kicked the door closed.

There was a sitting room with a bedroom attached to it. The stone floor was covered with furs to keep away the chill, and the chairs were upholstered with a dark blue brocade. There was no art adorning the walls or the ceilings, but Nadya found comfort in the relative simplicity. She missed her cell at the monastery.

Nadya dropped her pack. It spilled open, Malachiasz’s spell book falling out. Anna lifted an eyebrow, picking it up.

“Oh, that’s—”

“I know what it is,” Anna said, flipping through it. “I’ve seen it before.”

Nadya said nothing, letting Anna page through the book. She found some of Malachiasz’s sketches, her eyebrows tugging down.

“Why do you have this?” she finally asked. She held it out to Nadya, who took it, hugging it to her chest.

“He’s dead.”

She expected a reaction like she’d gotten from Katya, but Anna only looked sad.

“Oh,” she said softly. “I … gods, he was awful, but I know you saw something in him that I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“He might be alive,” Nadya continued. “He died in my arms, but I … everything is confusing and complicated.”

Anna blinked. “What?”

“It’s … well—I mean, death isn’t transient, it’s permanent, but it hasn’t been for…” she trailed off. “Serefin, Malachiasz, and me.”

Anna waited for her to continue, puzzled.

“We all died. We all came back.”

“You died? Naden’ka, what? And, wait, the prince?”

“He’s the king now,” Nadya replied quietly. “I—” she paused. “A lot happened the night we killed the king. After, I was trapped in Grazyk, but Serefin made sure nothing happened to me. When the slavhki figured out who I was, he got me out of the city. He could have had me hanged and saved himself a world of trouble, but he didn’t. With him on the throne, I—I don’t know—I think there’s a chance.”

He’d killed Malachiasz, but she found everything she’d told Ostyia was true. She didn’t hate him for it. If anything, she understood what he had done.

Anna lifted her eyebrows. She moved to a chair and sat down. Weariness deep in her bones, Nadya collapsed into the chair next to Anna.

“Malachiasz was the Black Vulture—”

“No.” Anna paled. “I punched him,” she whispered. “He didn’t even retaliate, he fled.”

“That’s how he was.” He hadn’t retaliated because no one had expected him to. Anytime he could be Malachiasz and not the boy with the weight of an ancient cult on his fragile shoulders, he took it.

Anna shook her head. “This is going to be a lot, isn’t it? Do you want to rest first?”

Nadya drew her legs up onto the chair, wrapping her arms around them. She had Malachiasz’s spell book wedged between her heart and her knees. She shouldn’t have it out in the open, but she couldn’t let go.

There were no halting pauses and hesitant moments where she had to gather her thoughts. Instead, she pulled the glove off her hand and told Anna everything.

24

MALACHIASZ CZECHOWICZ

He tells me how he will make this world anew. How sweet the goddess of the sun will taste. He takes a bit more from me each time. We cannot be stopped. There’s