"Are you hurt?" Laczlo asked, shutting the door to the deck behind them.

They were under the stern castle where his bed and things were stowed. It was hard moving so much so quickly and discretely, knowing they were likely being watched by the Olverin's people. But most of it was here, including his armor and weapons, packed inside the large chest near his bed. That, more than anything, he cared for on this journey. Knowing his luck so far, another fight wasn't out of the question. They'd have to pass by Goroden again, after all.

Silene shook her head. "Not seriously."

Laczlo sat her down at the edge of his bed and went about cleaning her face with a wet rag. Blood was in her scalp, splattered across her cheek, staining the front of her simple tunic—it was nearly everywhere. He did what he could, being careful about the bruising and cuts as he went. "What happened?"

"I thought I could surprise him—the crossbowman hiding in the secret chamber. I failed."

"But you still won?"

"I had a knife. He didn't." She shrugged, shoulders slouching down. "It's not my first time."

"You've killed before?"

She didn't meet his eyes. "Back in Rodezia. I did it to escape. It was the only way…"

"It's okay. We don't have to speak of that." He finished cleaning her as best he could without having her strip and bathe. Laczlo sat back on his haunches and dropped the rag; he stared at the floor, chewing at his lip, hands working at each other. After some time, he looked up and stared at her. "What's your real name?"

"Laczlo, I'm sorry—"

He put up a hand. "I want to know your name first. Please."

"Vida."

"Vida," he repeated. "Is that the truth?"

"It is." She went to grab his hands.

He jerked away, standing suddenly. She recoiled, and, for a moment of sick anger so potent it tasted like blood on his tongue, her fear satisfied him. "You said we were the same! You shared secrets in confidence with me that were nothing but… but falsehoods!" He leaned in, seething, wanting to grab her face and make her see his pain but he held back, hands shaking. Through clenched teeth, he hissed, "You seduced me with lies. I betrayed my wife for you."

"I did not lie to you to let me into your bed, Laczlo," Vida protested, finally meeting his glare with a defiant look of her own. "My father hurt my mother, me. He was going to send me to Karnys as a concubine for his own debts. There was much truth in what I told you."

"Oh? How can I trust you?" He gave a bitter laugh and stalked away, hands clenching and unclenching. "When Mikha told me of your falsehoods, I called him a liar! I thought he betrayed me and ran you off for fear of my prestige and honor. What a fool I was."

"I shouldn't have lied when I did, but you must understand it was not merely to manipulate you for my gain, Laczlo—"

"No? What then?"

She took a deep breath, and he turned to watch her struggle to keep her composure. He almost pitied her, but the pain was too fresh, the anger too hot, so he watched from a distance as she wiped her eyes and steeled her face. "I fled my home for fear of my life from that monster outside. I ran from everyone I loved and cared for because if I stayed, he would… He would eventually kill me as he does all his women. I am not a coward, but what choice did I have? So I ran, but there is no life for a woman on her own in a foreign land. I did what I had to, sending money back when I could from selling information. But eventually, that too would run out, you see? I was blackmailed into an impossible position, nearly murdered in my own home, and I found you there with intentions I could never possibly guess. I knew things I shouldn't—most voivodes would kill me for that to simply tie up a loose end. So yes, I lied. There was no other option I could see."

Laczlo scrunched his face up, lip curled in conflict between the truth of her tale and the pain and anger festering in his heart. "But you continued to lie. Even as you took to my bed—a married man under Dues and the gods alike—you never thought to be honest with me?"

"Of course I did! But by all the dead women killed by a man's righteous anger, could I risk that? I feared for my life!"

"From me?"

"Even good men do bad things, Laczlo." She looked away. "I'm sorry. I just… I was scared. I still am."

He stood there, frozen. "I wouldn't hurt you, Vida."

"But you would be rid of me, and that is death as well, you see? What could I do? Where could I go? I had to delay until I could prove I was useful, trustworthy." She gestured to her bloodied blade. "I am loyal, you see? You can't have doubt in me now."

Laczlo searched for a response desperately. Deus, to think she feared him? It almost made him weep, never mind her justifications. "Mikha paid you to go. Why didn't you take it and flee if all I am is a threat?"

"What you're doing now is important. Stopping this rebellion—I want to help." She stood, coming closer. He stiffened and retreated a step, yet she came before him, putting a hand on his face. Her touch was delicate, soft against his flushed skin. Something wracked his body and made him wince and shut his eyes in desperate hope of blocking all sense of her out. Of course, it didn't work. "But I also came back because I care for you. I'm not sure if it is more than that—I can't determine the truth of it, not now. Everything is too… Laczlo, I just know I need you in my life. Maybe it's tied up in this sense of purpose I have here, maybe it's because of how you saved me, I don't know. But what I do know is that I couldn't leave, even in my fear of all the possibilities. I could never just leave. Never."

The words struck him with such force that his legs buckled, and he collapsed against the wall. What did I do to deserve such kindness? Such loyalty? "What, ah, um…" He cleared his throat. "What happened? What did you do?"

"I watched the Olverins and followed a servant, finding the estate where Karnys was staying. I searched for it at night." She pointed over to the leather bag by the bed. He'd forgotten she'd even had it. "I found papers of all kinds: records of payment mainly, but letters, notes too. They were thorough. With so much money, they had to be, I suppose."

He wanted to go through it, but there was time for that later. "And you heard of the ambush?"

"Yes. I barely got out without them noticing me, and followed a man to the shop. He was going to kill you."

"By the Gates of Light," he muttered, rubbing his face. "You did all that?"

"I'm a spy, I suppose. It's what I do."

He went to say something, to comfort her, maybe, but a knock sounded at the door. Laczlo sighed and righted himself as Vida retreated to the edge of the bed, taking up the leather bag and setting it in her lap. She looked so vulnerable there. Exposed. He hesitated there for a moment, searching for his courage, for the right words, then turned and faced the door.

"Yes?" Laczlo asked, wringing his hands. Shame crept upon him like the plague.

"Parden the intrustion, Voivode." Mikha's voice. "I've a druzhina here for you."

He was glad to hear it. "Enter, please."

The door creaked open, and Mikha entered with a blood-covered Isak behind, eyes downcast.

"Voivode," Mikha said warmly, "we were quite afraid earlier, I must admit. It brings me more joy than I can profess to see you well."

Laczlo approached and hugged his old servant, tutor, and mentor. "Thank you."

"Of course, Voivode." He smiled, extracting himself with some embarrassment, then looked to Vida as he closed the door behind him. "I see she has returned."

Vida took a pouch from her belt and offered it to Mikha. "I know you don't wish to see me back—"

"I hear you killed a hidden assassin during the attack."

"I… Yes, I did."

He nodded, taking the pouch of coin and securing it. Mikha then turned and gestured to Isak. "I have heard the tale. And our druzhina has words to say, I believe."

Ah, of course, he thought, remembering numbly. Isak was asked to kill me by Karnys. That implies a deal was made prior, and he did not tell me of it. He gestured for Vida to stay, for she was standing to leave. "Very well, go on, Druzhina."

"Voivode." He kneeled. "Prior to our departure from Nova, I was offered a great deal of coin for my loyalty. Coin matching the value of my estate, perhaps more." His eyes never left the floor, voice never wavered from its cold, even recollection of events as a warrior might describe the terrain of a battlefield. "I didn't take the money. And I never once considered following through with any task asked of me. This, I swear upon my ancestors."

Laczlo stood there, letting the words sink in before he finally asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I hoped, foolishly, Voivode, that I would never have to. I feared losing your trust. Whoever made the ask of me, I figured they would just let it be. Karnys had other plans, it seemed."

"So when he asked you to kill me, it was in hopes you would switch sides, as it were."

"I realized it was his people behind it. I hoped it wasn't the case, but I was wrong. A foolish mistake." He looked up, breaking expectations of conduct for such a moment of admission of oathbreaking. His eyes blazed, voice shaking for the first time as he said, "I never would have betrayed you, Voivode. Never. I didn't even give them my word! Yet he called upon me as if I had given an oath!"

"Druzhina—" Mikha warned, but Laczlo raised a hand, stopping him.

He looked into Isak's eyes. "I've been lied to, deceived, and rebelled against every minute of my rule as voivode of Vilsi. I thought I could spot deception, but it is clear to me now I've been a fool." Laczlo sighed, taking in a deep breath. "And yet, I can see intentions clearly, I believe. And from Goroden, I never once questioned your loyalty. Isak, Druzhina of Vilsi, rise, forgiven. Any slights against me are forgotten."

His eyes widened. "Voivode, are you certain? I would gladly offer my head to you. I deserve no less."

"You are no use to the realm dead. And I've no desire for any more killing." Laczlo extended a hand, and after a moment, Isak took it, rising unsteadily.

"I made an oath to you long ago, recently renewed… I do not deserve this kindness. You have my eternal gratitude and thanks, Voivode."

"And you, mine." He looked from Isak to Mikha to Vida, then back to the druzhina. "You have my thanks for defending me with your life. For your sacrifices. For endangering your own honor and pride…" He put a hand on Isak's shoulder. "Please, put it all out of your mind. It is already from mine."

"Voivode," he said, nodding, face tensed and straining as unshed tears lit his eyes. "I shall."

"Good." He clapped the man's shoulder once more, then nodded to the door. "See to the men. I must speak to Mikha and Silene."

The druzhina left with his chest high.

When the door was shut behind him, Laczlo let out a long breath and sat on a stool in the corner of the room, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. After a moment, he looked up to the two others. "Mikha, her name is Vida. She has served Vilsi well. We shall figure out how to explain to the men her origins." He waved to the leather bag in her lap. "She has gifts courtesy of Karnys. Go through them if you would, I wish to know what further evidence we have of this conspiracy. When I return to Nova, I wish for none to doubt the legitimacy of this threat."

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It seemed for a moment Mikha might argue, but he bowed his head and simply said, "Voivode."

"Good." He looked to Vida, taking in her watchful expression, the sadness there in her eyes. For him? Likely. By the Gates, I wish I were stronger. He thought of Isak, a warrior amongst warriors. He thought of Ygon, Voiakh's champion, strong and rugged and intimidating. "My chamber may be used for washing for the women; I believe they would much appreciate the privacy."

"Of course."

He stood and went over to Vida, running fingers through her hair, brushing it from her face. "We shall speak more later. I should see to the others."

She nodded quickly. "Very well."

With that, Laczlo turned and exited the room, feeling both free in Spirit and impossibly tired. He wanted to rage and weep at the never-ending disappointments of dishonesty, but what was the point? It was as he said: they were loyal underneath it all, as far as he could tell. And, at a point, madness was the next logical step after paranoia. He was tired of weakness. Tired of anxiety and worry. Tired of fear. And maybe that was justification enough to move on from it all.

…

The steady current had pulled them east into a large lake full of small fishing vessels and merchant ships, most coming and going, some just floating in the open water. Emalia couldn't help but glance around in fear of pursuit. Someone of such importance as Karnys Vestile, powerful though he was on his own, it was his father who concerned her. A man such as he rivaled the tsar, and to rival the tsar was to near godhood. If they had one advantage in their escape, it was that they were a sole ship, already too far gone to track or pursue.

They won't need to pursue us. Those hired men could simply row to Vasia with all haste, and they would eventually intercept us, she thought with some concern, picking at a loose splinter on the ship's railing. She stood at the front where a small platform rose up to give view of the waters around them. With the sun filtering through light, wispy clouds, and a steady, cool breeze in the air, it might almost be peaceful. Sovina stood close by, still armored but now relaxed. When ready and alert, she was tense, aggressively postured, with narrowed eyes like a falcon's searching for its next prey. But in moments of peace, she was different entirely: still and tranquil, a marble carving upon the Column, facing the chaos of the city, unperturbed. An unshakeable promontory upon which all the sea could beat in Flaael's turbulent rage, remaining unmoved. The warrior was still there, observant but subdued, and the woman arose uninhibited. It was admirable. Just looking at her made Emalia want to be better, more courageous—and she felt like it was truly possible beside such a model of steady strength.

"What do you think of this voivode?" Emalia asked after a moment.

Sovina turned to face her, leaning against the railing with an elbow propped up for support. "Have you heard of him before?"

"I have. I remember the conflict Oskar mentioned, though from a different angle. The Column, quit deliberately, elected to stay out of it."

"Why?"

"Intervention is risky, primarily," Emalia said with a shrug. "To support heirs during difficult successions and guide from the shadows is one thing, but to lend military support would be an overstep. We've not used Sorcery in internal conflict in generations. Besides, it's not levied footmen or professional soldiers we'd be sending, but our own people."

"He'd resent the Column for its neutrality, I'd imagine."

"Most would. I know little of his disposition, however. But you haven't answered my question: what of the man himself?"

"I think he and his retinue are somewhat of an unorganized mess," she replied, crossing her arms and leaning back. "There's confusion in their ranks. For druzhina, this worries me. As for Laczlo Vilsky, he seems determined in his own right. Certainly active, which more than can be said for others."

"Can we trust him?"

"You know more of politics than I."

"I'm not asking of politics. You can see through people better than any."

Sovina snorted at the compliment in an attempt to brush it off. "I would not go that far. But if he were to betray us, it would be done cautiously and quietly. If we are to be wary, I suggest we do so as we near Nova. Yet, he does not seem one inclined toward such things."

"I agree," Emalia smiled. "We think quite alike, sometimes. It is almost worrying."

"Oh?"

"We might overlook the obvious or have gaps in our reasoning."

"Maybe it's just a sign of sharp minds coming to the same conclusion."

Emalia smiled. "Perhaps, but should we be too like-minded, we could miss—"

She stopped as Sovina tapped her hand. Emalia followed her gaze to the ladder, where an elder man appeared. He had sharp, punitive features and a well-maintained moustache that spoke of pride. Earlier, he had disappeared with one of the druzhina to the voivode's chamber. His servant? What could he want with us?

"Priestess and Guardian of the Column," he said, bowing, "if it would please you, a bath has been drawn from the ship's water stores for the women in the privacy of the rear castle's quarter."

Emalia looked from him to the deck below, where the voivode mingled with the druzhina, speaking to them with familiarity and friendliness. He even spoke to the mercenaries, though with some distance and formality.

"Would this include the woman prisoner?" she asked.

"Yes, Lady Marion Olverin will be offered the courtesy, Priestess."

"Very well, it would not do to deny the voivode's kindness. It is much appreciated. Is it prepared now?"

"Yes, Priestess. If you would follow me." He turned to head toward the rear of the ship.

With an exchanged glance with Sovina, Emalia followed. An excuse to have that woman with him interrogate us? Perhaps. It's not as if we need a bath again. Truly, the men of the ship would certainly benefit more from one, in her estimation. The druzhina, now bare of their mail and in their simple tunics and linen shirts drying off from washing in the lake water in the dwindling sun, offered respectful nods and words of greeting as she passed. "Priestess," mostly, and a dutiful word of devotion to the Column. Druzhina, after all, were warriors not just of boyars, voivodes, and the tsar but warriors of the gods too. She didn't know what to think on the matter, to be honest. Her protector was enough of a blade of the gods for her, at least.

Sovina nudged her from behind, so Emalia glanced back over her shoulder. With a playful grin at her lips, her eyes flicked towards one of the druzhina wringing out his shirt, his warrior's muscles on display. Emalia rolled her eyes and faced forward again, much to her guardian's chuckled amusement. As she entered the cabin, Emalia couldn't help but smile.

The interior was not large, only about six strides across and four long, and she almost had to stoop to avoid the support beams jutting from the board ceiling above, which was also the deck of the 'castle' as it was evidently named. Inside was a small bed, surprisingly not the voivode's personal bed, which was often carried with boyars of all kinds when they traveled. There were also a few chests and lonely pieces of furniture, but mainly, in the center of the room, a sizeable tub full of water with a smaller basin beside it. The floor had a piece of linen stretched over it, likely to capture some amount of spilled water. It was an odd arrangement, but she supposed the issue of a woman's privacy and cleanliness were hardly issues for a ship of sailors.

Beside her and Sovina, the two other women were already inside, still clothed and standing with some wariness. Marion Olverin stood near the wall, arms crossed over her bloodied and ruined dress, watching them warily as the other woman the voivode had spoken to stood near the tub, a hand feeling the water.

"Priestess," she said upon their entrance, rising, "and Protector, it is an honor to have you with us." She smiled, and the expression seemed honest and true. She was, Emalia noticed, quite beautiful, despite her swelling bruises and somewhat cleaned blood stains.

Emalia smiled back, glad for the address to Sovina. "I'm afraid I do not have your name."

"Ah, of course. You may call me Vida."

"Vida, I heard of what you did, interrupting the assassin. That was courageous work."

"I was just lucky, really."

"Not too lucky," Sovina said, raising a brow at her wounds. "Are you trained?"

"Not quite."

She nodded in approval. "You should be even prouder, then. Killing a warrior is not easy work. It takes strength of many kinds."

Vida smiled, but her heart didn't seem to be in it, for she held the tub's edge for support and looked away. Emalia nudged Sovina and shook her head, and her companion frowned and shrugged. Emalia went forward and put a hand on Vida's shoulder, squeezing.

"I'm sorry. We shouldn't pry on such things."

"No, I am fine." She stood tall, seeming almost convincing. "Today has been… hectic."

"I understand well." Emalia looked to Marion, still standing apart from them, arms folded across her chest. "Lady Olverin."

"He wasn't my bowman," she replied suddenly, licking her lips and stepping forward. "I didn't know anything about Prince Karnys's plan… I just thought—"

"I know," Vida interrupted. "You were kept at arm's length."

"It was my first time sitting in on the discussion fully. I had little knowledge of what the prince wanted or what the deal actually consisted of. I was a broker, that is all."

"Ignorance is not innocence."

"I'm not claiming that." She put her hands up. "But look at me. I am no villain. I'm a merchant, a trader. We Olverins make deals. Cloth, silk, wine, spices, all the luxuries under the sun, but we are not partisans of any sort. If I knew what that southern snake was up to, I never would have agreed to assist him. You must understand that. Purely financially, it is not worth the risk, not to mention my moral protests at such dark deals."

And yet you chose not to know, Emalia thought, hiding her disgust behind a mask of flat, perhaps unconvincing, neutrality. You chose to be ignorant and proceed anyway. How can you pretend to be free of guilt?

Vida didn't reply, likely thinking the same thing, so Emalia said, "Let us wash. Though we may be on different sides of this now, there is nothing barring us from civility."

"Well said." Marion lowered her hands. "I will be cooperative and answer whatever questions may come my way. I just wish to be home again. I have no enemies here."

"And I am certain the tsar will appreciate that sentiment."

Her face fell for a moment, but she quickly seemed to rein it in, nodding and stepping closer. Sovina cleared her throat, and when Emalia looked over, she saw a slightly raised brow.

"It's fine," Emalia said and went to help Vida, who was struggling with her clothes. They were dried with sticky blood, and she was bruised and had difficulty moving, making for a troublesome combination. With rich tan skin, long legs, and a slender but sensuous physique, she seemed like a delicately carved statue in some courtyard. She looked how Emalia wished she could look, in truth. Out of respect, both to her and Sovina, Emalia did her best not to look as she helped Vida strip and wash. In truth, she felt no desire to gawk—after all, appearances were nice, but hardly important next to what attracted her so in Sovina. Vida had a few cuts needed bandaging, and so she tended to them with what meager supplies they had, calling on her somewhat limited experience with medicinal writings. Marion was not hurt, though she looked almost as bad, covered in gore as she was. Sovina stood off to the side, cleaning her armor and sword, watching Marion closely.

During all this, Emalia half-expected someone to barge in, screaming about warriors closing in, readying to board. But the call never came. Indeed, they carried on quietly, the wind enough to keep the ship gliding through the low waves of the lake without much cause for concern. By the time they finished, both Vida and Marion were no longer the bloody messes they once were, with the former wearing a different, plain tunic that fell to the knee over one of linen. Though it was hardly appropriate for such a woman, she still seemed to wear it with elegance. Idly, Emalia wondered if she was some sort of noble from wherever she came from. Probably not, but still, she had such a bearing. Marion, in contrast, looked rather dejected in the tunic set out for her by the voivode's servant. That was enough to make Emalia smile.

She and Sovina hadn't nearly bloodied themselves, but still they made use of the fresh, clean water with practiced efficiency. It was quite unlike their other bathing experience in Delues, in no uncertain terms. Still, Emalia took in the sights while she could, appreciating her guardian's strong, athletic body, touched with scars and sun. The efficiency of her movements and the care hidden away inside such seemingly utilitarian practiced motions.

Contrary to her initial expectations, few questions had been asked from either of the three parties during the bathing, possibly because of the vulnerability of their situations, but mostly because it served as a time of peace for Marion and Vida, who had both undergone quite traumatic experiences, and Emalia hadn't wished to break that. After it was done, they cleaned the chamber as best they could and exited, finding the day gone and night having taken over. The sky was cloudless and full of stars. A beautiful sight indeed. They left Marion to be alone and stood at the aft of the ship, Vida, she, and Sovina, standing in that order by the railing.

After some time of silence, Emalia asked, "How did you get involved in this… situation?"

"Situation, a way to put it, certainly." Vida gave a weak smile as she went about braiding her wet, night-black hair. "I found myself wrapped in the webs of larger powers than I… And Laczlo saved me, allowing me to follow, perhaps out of pity. To tell the truth, I was not fully honest with him. I said I was someone I was not. And, well, the truth is now out, and benevolent as he is, Laczlo has forgiven me."

Even Emalia didn't miss the familiarity with which she referred to the voivode. Sovina subtly nudged her, likely to emphasize that exact point. "Are you and the voivode, uh, lovers?"

Vida looked away. "Yes, before, I suppose one could call us that. I am unsure now."

"I see. I am, uh, sorry," Emalia looked out over the sea, catching Sovina's eyes roll. "I'm sorry."

"No. Think nothing of it."

He's a man of Deus… Certainly not a Nominationist, otherwise that would likely mean denial from the Gates. She chewed at her lip. Though most voivodes were not known for their fidelity, exactly, it did make one wonder about the ramifications if it was widely found out he had a relationship with a Rodezian of unknown origin while raising a case against the Rodezian Dynasty itself. Not to mention his wife, who Emalia believed was, in fact, a Rodezian noble.

"You have a grasp of the situation with our efforts," Vida said after a moment, "but I know little about your quest. Might I inquire?"

Immediately, Emalia's thoughts left the political concerns of this intrigue and fell back toward her own failings. Her possession, Daecinus's rage, her own lack of persuasion—all of which led to the sheer mess they were now in.

Sovina leaned forward, saying, "We went north in search of truths regarding matters of Sorcery. We found dangers that need answers to resolve. Some at the Column did not approve of our initial leaving, so we return cautiously."

"I see." Vida nodded. "Should a simple woman such as I worry about this Sorcerous matter? The ex-druzhina Oskar seemed to imply it was an important matter."

Sovina looked at Emalia, who gave a brief nod, so she lowered her voice and said, "Perhaps. Be prepared to leave Nova. And be prepared to put distance between yourself and the voivode."

"Is Laczlo in danger?"

"For now, no one is."

"But if you fail…"

"We won't." Sovina slipped a hand around Emalia's. "Still, it is something to prepare for."

"I see. Is there anything else you can tell me?"

Sovina answered the question with silence, so Emalia said, "Nothing that would help. Just know we are doing what we can."

"Very well." She looked down, concern painted across her face. "Thank you for telling me that much. I understand the… delicacy of some matters."

Vida watched the water in silence, so Emalia and Sovina let her be, retiring to as quiet a place on the ship as they could find, given how stuffed it was with people. For that night, at least, things were peaceful. She just hoped it might continue that way.

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