to the front door.
He banged on the door fiercely with his uninjured hand.
“Galina, my love! Open up quickly!”
After a maddeningly long time, the door opened, but it was Masha who answered.
“Captain Portinari, may I help you?”
Her tone was cold, bordering on rude. It was so unexpected that Sebastian paused for a moment before shaking off his surprise.
“I—I need to speak with Galina! Immediately! The city’s been overrun by a fanatic mob of traitors! We must escape!”
“They are not a fanatic mob of traitors.” He heard Galina’s voice behind Masha. “They are true patriots of Izmoroz who have finally cast aside imperial oppression.”
Masha stepped aside to reveal Galina standing in the foyer beyond. Instead of her habitual gentle smile and melancholy eyes, he found her expression so cold and hard that he almost didn’t recognize her.
“What are you talking about, my—”
“I am not yours, Sebastian, and I have not been for some time,” she said curtly.
“I—I don’t understand.”
“I confess that the honorable thing to do would have been to break off the engagement then. But I realized it was shortsighted to cast aside such a valuable source of intelligence simply because I found your cruelty toward your fellow countrymen loathsome.”
“You… used me?” He stared at her. Even her voice sounded different. Who was this person who spoke to him so cruelly? Could this really be the woman he loved?
“It was necessary for the freedom of Izmoroz,” she said. “Because of the affection I once held for you, I will refrain from calling upon the Izmorozian warriors who wait nearby so that you may have a chance to flee with your…” She cast a withering glance behind him at the still mounted Vittorio, Zaniolo, and Rykov outside. “Your comrades. I pray I do not live to regret this kindness.”
Then she turned her back on him.
“You…”
His hurt and grief mingled with the throbbing pain of his injured hand and the hollow shame of defeat to become a wild, desperate rage unlike anything he’d ever known.
“You think you can get away with this? You think you can do this to me?”
He clenched his gem and thought how nice it would be to see her delicate frame inflate and burst from internal air pressure.
“You… traitorous bitch! I will—”
“That is quite enough of that, Sebastian.”
His mother’s voice, so unexpected yet so familiar, took all the fight out of him. He watched in astonishment as she strode calmly across the foyer toward him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked with a regal sadness into his eyes.
“Let us depart, my child.”
He stared up at her for a moment, then said, “Y-yes, Mother.”
His mother glanced back at Galina over her shoulder.
“Galina Odoyevtseva, I thank you for sheltering me during this conflict, but Sebastian is right. You are a traitorous bitch.”
Then Sebastian and his mother descended the steps to where Zaniolo, Vittorio, and Rykov waited. Vittorio’s expression seemed to have settled into a grim calm that bordered on despair, though his back was still straight and his head still held high.
He offered his hand to Sebastian’s mother. “My lady.”
She nodded and allowed him to help her up behind him, while Sebastian climbed back onto his own horse.
“We must make haste,” Vittorio said as he kicked his mount. “It’s only a matter of time before this rabble goes searching for people to burn at the stake, or flay alive, or whatever it is they do here.”
They rode as quickly as they could to the western gate, which they found completely abandoned.
“Many of our troops were Izmorozian,” Zaniolo said to Sebastian. “Most likely they joined with their brethren when they saw which way the tide was turning.”
Sebastian nodded, but he didn’t understand how it had come to this. He had thought most of the people embraced the empire as a means of safety and order just as he did. Had a few fanatics infected the rest of the populace? But Galina was not the sort to be influenced by such populism. Or was she? He couldn’t be sure he knew her at all now…
The imperial refugees left Gogoleth and began the long journey south to Aureum on the Advent Road.
“Damn shame about Bonucci and Marchisio,” said Vittorio. “They were good, loyal men.”
“Yes,” said Zaniolo. “Those undead monsters swarmed the tower and tore it down. I was lucky to be thrown clear, but they were not. I tried to save them, of course, but they insisted it was more important that I report the outcome of the battle to you.”
Sebastian’s