Blessed Monsters (Something Dark and Holy #3) - Emily A. Duncan Page 0,87

than half.”

“Not helping,” he said. “I do, though. I didn’t, that’s fair, but I do now and I’m doing my best and sometimes I’m going to make decisions that seem off-the-wall and foolhardy and you’ll have to trust me.”

Kacper managed to appear both heartened and distressed. Serefin sighed ruefully.

“Can I at least know why you think this will work? Or are you asking for complete and total blind acceptance?” Kacper asked.

“Rude.”

Kacper glanced at Serefin’s left eye and winced. “Sorry.”

Serefin waved him off. “No. Obviously not. I just…”

“I’m not going to undermine you in public, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve been to court, Serefin, I know how this works. But I am going to ask you to explain yourself in private.”

“This is hardly private, Kacper.”

“You know what I mean, don’t be difficult.”

“All I know how to be is difficult.”

“That is very true. Regardless, I’ll trust you—of course I trust you—but I want you to trust me enough to tell me what you’re planning.”

There was one fatal flaw with that perfectly reasonable sentiment. “And if I don’t have a plan?”

“Serefin.”

“Great talk!”

Kacper groaned.

“They’re listening, you know,” Serefin pointed out.

Kacper didn’t bother glancing over his shoulder. “I know.”

“Talking of plans at all will make them nervous.”

“It does,” Milomir called.

“Eavesdropping is rude!” Serefin called back.

Kacper was giving him a look, and he knew why. They were effectively prisoners. Kacper was right. There was nothing in place that would stop the tsar from executing Serefin the second he stepped into Komyazalov. He should be worried. He should be terrified.

But he … wasn’t.

Was it sheer exhaustion? Was it something else? It certainly wasn’t hope. But Katya—outside of carving open his chest—had never really given any indications of hostility toward Serefin. She had been honest that if it were up to her, she would have drawn up a peace treaty, damn what their respective courts had to say. But it wasn’t up to her. It was up to her father.

And the tsar was a variable he did not know how to plan for. He knew surprisingly little about Yulian Vodyanov. He’d known more about Katya, all things considered. She was the one that he might meet on a battlefield. He knew only that Yulian was deeply devout, to the point where he would never bend to heretics. That worried him, but such a deeply devout man had ended up with a daughter like Katya, so maybe there was hope for the world yet.

There weren’t many wartime stories about the current tsar. He was more content to hole himself up with his priests in his church than focus on what was happening at the front.

“It’s not that I have a plan and it’s not that I trust them,” Serefin said, his voice soft. “It’s that if we go there and they kill me, so what? We’re going to die. It’s no longer a chance, it’s inevitable.”

“Because of your brother.”

“Because of Chyrnog,” Serefin clarified, though Kacper didn’t seem to appreciate it. He was still holding Kacper’s hands and he didn’t want to let them go, ever.

Ruslan was off whispering with one of the soldiers, which concerned Serefin. How persuasive could Ruslan be? He reminded Serefin of Malachiasz, but without the anxious earnestness that Malachiasz used to win people over so effortlessly. Ruslan was more obviously conniving.

What would happen if he convinced these soldiers that an ancient god had awoken and needed worship? What could he twist them into doing?

Serefin really wished Malachiasz hadn’t left. Milomir had contemplated sending someone after him until Serefin pointed out that Malachiasz could kill literally everyone in the company without much thought or effort. He’d received a poisonous look in return—it was, admittedly, a little on the callous side—and Milomir had decided to let him go. Serefin hoped it wasn’t to their detriment.

He wanted to trust Malachiasz so badly.

Kacper had been quietly toying with his fingers. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Serefin tilted his head. “For giving you no answers to your questions and telling you we were doomed instead of reassuring you?”

Kacper shrugged. “You let me in. You don’t do that, usually.”

It hurt to hear that and realize Kacper was absolutely right. He didn’t try to be like this. He didn’t know how to not be like this.

“Oh,” he said, his voice small.

Kacper squeezed his hand. “It’s not like it’s a surprise.”

Serefin frowned.

“You’ve spent a good part of your life watching everyone around you die.”

“You have, too.”

“I don’t have anyone dropping the weight of a country on my shoulders. Actually, literally no one