on each other.”
“I’ll be right in. Maybe go see if there’s another coat in there for me,” Nadya said. She wasn’t sure what the pins on the left breast of his jacket meant, but she was fairly certain she didn’t want them this close to her body.
He tugged a frozen lock of her hair through his fingers. “I’m not sure I will,” he murmured. He turned and started down the path to the church. “Red was a good choice,” he called back over his shoulder.
Nadya was left sitting in front of the altar, her face the same fiery shade as her hair.
“You didn’t see that,” she said, aloud, to whichever god was listening. “As soon as this is over, knife to the heart, just like that.”
She didn’t manage to convince herself. But none of that mattered, not yet.
15
SEREFIN
MELESKI
Svoyatova Viktoria Kholodova: When Svoyatova Viktoria Kholodova was killed, a pomegranate tree burst forth from where her body fell.
—Vasiliev’s Book of Saints
Kacper let the door slam behind them. “That was one of your worst ideas, Serefin. Ever.”
Serefin couldn’t stop laughing. Kacper was looking at him in shock, unable to see the humor in earning a prophecy from a mad Kalyazi witch. Serefin wheezed, leaning back against the wall and sliding to the floor. A servant passed in front of them, pointedly not looking at the High Prince having a fit of hysterics on the ground.
“What did it mean?” Kacper continued.
“Did it have to mean anything?” Serefin asked after catching his breath. He wiped tears from his eyes.
Kacper shuddered.
Serefin brushed a moth off his knee, frowning. Where were they coming from? The insect left the barest sprinkling of dust on Serefin’s black trousers as it flew away.
After heaving an exasperated sigh, Kacper slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor next to Serefin.
“Now what?” he asked.
Serefin leaned his head back. He needed a way to dig deeper into the underbelly of the court without anyone suspecting him of stirring up trouble. He had a reputation for getting underfoot and antagonizing slavhki, most of whom weren’t fond of him. While Pelageya was an oddity, it was comforting to know not everyone in the castle was under his father’s spell.
“How quickly can a person travel to Ky?tri and back?” he mused.
Kacper glanced sidelong at him. “You’re leaving Grazyk?”
“I can’t. But I need someone to go to the Salt Mines.”
“Who would that be?”
“Well…”
“Definitely not.”
“I trust you and Ostyia and no one else,” Serefin said.
“That’s touching, Serefin.”
“Are you defying a direct order from your prince?” Serefin asked, pressing a hand over his heart.
“It wasn’t a direct order, and I won’t leave you with only Ostyia for protection while you’re convincing yourself there are going to be assassins waiting for you around every corner. I’ll find someone trustworthy to send to Ky?tri.”
“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
“Drink a lot of wine and prepare for your inevitable fate?” Kacper suggested.
Serefin considered that with a thoughtful nod.
“Maybe get a new spell book?”
That got Serefin to his feet. “There’s an idea. With every piece I’m given about this business with the Vultures I grow more concerned, so first, let’s go to the source.”
“You’re going to try to pull the Vultures away from your father?” Kacper asked.
“He shouldn’t have them to begin with, so I’m certainly going to try.”
* * *
Serefin’s status earned him an interview with the Crimson Vulture, the second in command. Unexpectedly, she came to his rooms instead of requiring he go to the cathedral on the palace grounds to meet her.
The Vulture was a tall woman who wore an iron mask that covered all but her stormy blue eyes. Piles of black hair fell down her back in waves. Her head shifted to one side in an oddly avian way when she was brought before Serefin.
“Your Highness,” she said, her voice graveled, “welcome back to Grazyk.”
He motioned for her to sit and was grateful when she did; her height was intimidating.
“I hope His Excellency is well,” Serefin said. He wasn’t surprised that he had been denied an audience with the Black Vulture. The leader of the Vultures was notoriously elusive.
“I’ll be sure to pass on your felicitations,” she replied.
“Strange that he’s not in Grazyk with the Rawalyk so near.”
“Matters of state hold little interest to him. As it is now there will always be a war and there will always be state kings to fuel it, so he must see to the things of magic your king forgets or simply has no time