The Ranger of Marzanna (The Goddess War #1) - Jon Skovron Page 0,45

the extermination of the Rangers of Marzanna, a great deal of Izmorozian culture and folklore had been deemed seditious by the empress. For Galina’s father to pursue interests even tangentially related to such topics was to invite sharp scrutiny, and there was already a great deal of tension between the imperial military and the Izmorozian nobility. In theory, the Treaty of Gogoleth allowed the Izmorozian nobility to maintain direct authority over their people. But the noble families had quickly discovered their sovereignty was in name only. The true ruler of Izmoroz was the imperial army, and by extension, its highest-ranking officer, Commander Vittorio.

General Zaniolo maintained his innocent expression, but his eyebrows rose. “Lady Prozorova, I had not realized the Izmorozian culture was in need of preserving. Is your husband unhappy with the generous freedoms that our benevolent Empress Caterina Morante has granted him and his people?”

Though she was reluctant to do so, Galina felt she must step in before her mother made things worse.

“Surely all cultures should be preserved from one generation to the next, General,” she said. “The great Aureumian Empire has an army of scribes dedicated to recording each magnificent word the empress utters. My father was so inspired by the imperial archives during his visit to the great capital of Magna Alto that he longed to emulate such farsighted and lofty goals in his own humble way.”

That was not entirely untrue. Her father had gone to Magna Alto and been deeply impressed by the imperial archives. But his actions were not so much in emulation of them as a way to protect Izmoroz from them so that his people would not have their history and culture recorded solely by their conquerors.

“Galina Odoyevtseva, that was very well said.” Vittorio’s keen eyes bored into hers with an interest she’d never seen before and did not like. “You so rarely speak up, and now I see that all this time you have been cruelly denying us the pleasure of your enlightened and thoughtful discourse.”

Galina stared at him, unable to formulate a response that would not further pique his interest, which she decidedly wished to avoid.

“Now, now, Commander,” chided Lady Portinari, coming to her rescue. “The poor girl finally comes out of her shell a little and you frighten her right back into it.”

Vittorio turned and looked at Lady Portinari without expression. Lady Portinari held his gaze, smiling with an almost flirtatious challenge.

“I see,” Vittorio said at last, then turned back to Galina. “Forgive me, Galina Odoyevtseva. My words were intended to be complimentary, but I fear my experience with the delicate sensibilities of adolescent girls is somewhat lacking.”

Galina nodded. “I thank you for your kind apology, Commander. Though it was unnecessary, it is appreciated nonetheless.”

Vittorio seemed satisfied, but Galina had the sinking feeling he would be watching her much more closely from now on. Of course, if she agreed to engage herself to Sebastian, that would be inevitable anyway.

Vittorio turned back to Sebastian’s mother. “I am happy to report, Lady Portinari, that today our Sebastian has proven he is not only able to meet, but exceed my expectations.”

Galina thought it strange the way the commander referred to “our Sebastian,” as if Vittorio were his father, rather than the departed Giovanni Portinari. But naturally a woman of Lady Portinari’s poise would never let any irritation show. Instead she merely smiled and said, “How wonderful.”

“I cannot go into details of a sensitive military nature, of course,” continued Vittorio. “But if he continues to develop at his current pace, we may all rest easy and be confident in the safety of Izmoroz, even if the Uaine Empire with their legions of undead are foolish enough to invade.”

“I’m so very proud,” said Lady Portinari.

Galina turned to Sebastian and was both surprised and intrigued to see that he did not seem proud, or even pleased by such a boastful declaration. If anything, he seemed saddened by it. That was the moment she decided that this boy was worth further examination.

She softly laid a hand on his sleeve. He looked up at her, surprise now mingling with his sorrow.

“I would not wish to distract you from your duties, Sebastian Turgenev,” she said quietly. “But I hope that with all your preparation for the defense of our beloved Izmoroz, you still might find the time to call upon me so that we may speak at leisure in a less formal setting of our mutual appreciation for poetry.”

His eyes widened. “Galina Odoyevtseva, I can assure you that such