Wicked Saints (Something Dark and Holy #1) - Emily A. Duncan Page 0,93

or how he chose to say it,” she said. It’s all still lies.

Pelageya slid her hand down Malachiasz’s neck. “I don’t think you realize just what you’ve done, Veshyen Yaliknevo.”

He frowned, looking over at Pelageya for the first time.

“Oh, you think you do, for you are so clever, and all the pieces have fallen into place remarkably for you.” She brushed a fingertip against a trio of gold beads that were threaded through his hair. Nadya narrowed her eyes; she didn’t remember ever seeing those before. “How much will you come to regret this?”

“We’re going to stop this war,” Malachiasz said evenly. “There is nothing to regret.”

Pelageya smirked. “Dasz polakienscki ja mawelczenko.”

Nadya frowned. The words were Tranavian, but she had no idea what any of them meant. Clearly, Malachiasz understood, his face paled.

“Nie.”

“I suppose you’ll find out.”

“I think someone should explain to me what’s going on,” Nadya said slowly, finally working up the courage to speak. She felt like a child. Far too young to understand what was going on. Their words were spinning just out of reach over her head. Right now it was hard to believe Malachiasz was only one winter older than her; there was a darkness around him that made him seem so much older and more terrible. She hated it and she wasn’t going to let them do this to her. She wouldn’t be used, not by Malachiasz, not by this witch.

Pelageya glanced at Malachiasz. Reluctantly he returned the look and waved a hand; suddenly this action that had seemed so benign before appeared uncomfortably imperious.

“By all means,” he said. “She’ll be killing me soon enough and I’m fascinated by what you have to say.”

The condescension, however, made more sense now.

“No, actually, I’m more interested in your excuse,” Nadya said. She wished her voice wouldn’t shake. She wished she could face this without feeling like something was being ripped away from her.

The witch grinned and his expression wearied. He glanced at Pelageya again, clearly hesitant to speak in front of her.

“Why are you here, Malachiasz?”

“I have told you. My reasoning hasn’t changed just because you know what I am now. I want to save my country. I’m one of the few people who can; surely you understand that.”

He was giving her nothing, less than nothing.

“I don’t believe you,” she said softly.

Pelageya ran a hand through Malachiasz’s hair. He looked like he was an inch away from tearing her arm off.

“You’re young, sterevyani bolen,” she said. “How were you to know that your heart still beat in your chest after what’s been done to you?”

He snarled, knocking her hand away and standing in one fast, dangerous movement. “Don’t mock me, witch.”

Pelageya lifted an eyebrow, lips twisting into a slow smile. Then her attention was back on Nadya.

Nadya, who didn’t know how to hold herself together after this. Nadya, who couldn’t pull her gaze away from Malachiasz, unable to reconcile that the boy she had traded jokes with, that she had kissed, was a symbol of Tranavian heresy. A monster greater than all others.

She feared the Vultures more than she did the Tranavian nobles. She feared the Black Vulture more than she feared the Tranavian king. It didn’t make sense. That the silly, anxious boy sat on a throne built on the bones of thousands of people. Idly, she realized her hands were shaking. The room was too cold. Everything was wrong, the world shifted too far to one angle, unfamiliar and treacherous.

She thought she knew what she was doing, coming here, but now she was in a foreign country, surrounded by her enemies, and the one she had anchored her safety to had been lying to her from the start.

Nadya pulled Kostya’s necklace out from her pocket, holding it up to Pelageya.

“What is this?”

“A vessel, a chamber, a trap,” she said. “Velyos is within. Did he give you his name? No, he likes to be mysterious. Mystery is something more appealing to someone divine.”

Nadya shut her eyes. She didn’t understand what was happening.

“Have you heard of him? I suppose not. The veil went up, Velyos broke away. Your gods were probably relieved, but now here he is once more. You cannot feel the touch of your gods because the king is sending blood magic out in waves around Tranavia. Why do you think he’s kidnapped lovely young blood mages to siphon out their power? He’s cut off any access to the divine in preparation for his end goal. It’s been building for years in Tranavia, this