The Crown's Fate
Page 25
She watched as he shook his head and took in the room again, his disgust palpable. Should she tell him that it was actually she who’d given him the energy he needed to escape from the Dream Bench? Would that win him over? Or would he hate her more, because of where her power came from? He’d mentioned time and time again that he didn’t want anything to do with her energy.
But Aizhana didn’t have a chance to say anything before Nikolai spoke again. His tone now softened. “I meant I won’t abide this filth. I won’t have you staying in quarters like this.”
Nikolai snapped his fingers at the bed of lice, and it burst into an accelerated but contained fire, quickly burning itself to nothing. Then he snapped his fingers again, and two solid oak frames appeared. They were followed by a mattress and a heavy brocade blanket.
He narrowed his eyes. “Two mattresses, damn it,” he muttered.
“What do you mean?” Aizhana asked.
“I meant to conjure two fine horsehair mattresses. Not a single lumpy one.” He scowled at the bulge at the foot of the mattress.
But the muddy bubbles in Aizhana’s soul simmered giddily. Her son had attempted to take care of her. And he’d conjured two bed frames. “Does this mean you’ll stay?”
Nikolai nodded and sank onto the edge of the mattress-less bed frame, as if he were suddenly too tired to even be angry. “Thank you for taking me in, even though I’ve been less than grateful.”
“You owe me no apologies, my son. I am overjoyed you are here with me. And your magic—you have your power again.”
Nikolai sagged as his silhouette flickered. “Apparently not. Transforming the beds has taken much of the energy I have, and I didn’t even do it right. I’m sorry, Mother. The second mattress will have to wait, and the washbasin . . . perhaps tomorrow.”
Aizhana grinned with what remained of her teeth. She couldn’t care less about the washbasin. Nikolai was here. With her. And he’d called her “Mother.”
“I challenged Pasha,” he said. “I intend to take the throne. But I’m a fool if I think I can beat him like this. He has Vika on his side.” Nikolai’s shadow was fading, as well as losing its shape at its borders.
“I would do anything in my power for you. I will help you overthrow Pasha—”
Nikolai shook his head. “I don’t want your help.”
There it was again. Aizhana sighed. But she pulled him to his feet and led him to the bed that had a mattress. “Rest,” she said, as she draped the blanket over him. “And do not worry about your magic. You can always glean more energy.”
Nikolai yawned and nodded. “Right. I can always borrow more.” He sighed quietly and lowered himself onto his bed. Even with the fatigue, his movements were elegant, like the principal dancer in the Bolshoi Ballet, lying down to slumber onstage. Or so Aizhana imagined, for she’d never seen a ballet, but she had been a beautiful dancer, too, when she was young and her body was new. Her son had the same rare grace she’d once possessed. Probably more. Pride swelled in her putrefied chest.
Nikolai fell asleep within seconds. Poor dear, Aizhana thought.
He had made it clear he did not want what she could offer, but Nikolai needed this energy whether he wanted it or not, so she reached over and rested the pads of her fingers on the back of his neck, mindful to avoid grazing him with her claws.
This way was not optimal. Nikolai could wake and throw Aizhana across the room, or worse, cast her out into the street and never speak to her again. But this was her curse: condemned to trickery and sneaking in the night, even when it came to her own son.
But so be it, she thought. For mothers will do whatever needs to be done.
She poured energy into Nikolai until he shaded darker and his edges were less blurred again. He remained insubstantial—that was his curse, for now—but he was more here than not.
Here, with Aizhana.
“I love you, Nikolai,” she whispered.
Then she released him and kissed him on his forehead. “Sleep well. I shall return soon. I am going to have a little chat with your former mentor. One does not reject my son without consequence.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
In winter, Lazarevskoe Cemetery was a crowded plot of gray tombstones and statues and memorials, all covered in a heavy mantle of snow. Bare branches hung over the cemetery like outstretched claws. The old Church of St. Lazarus loomed in the background, somber and severe and a bit foreboding. Aizhana snickered, her quiet laugh like twigs snapping; Lazarevskoe Cemetery was the kind of place in which she felt particularly at home. Galina floated over the snowy pathways until she stopped at a grave marked by a marble cross cascading with roses. Aizhana hurried after her, her gait awkward in the uneven snow.
“Do you have me where you want me?” Galina asked without turning around.
Aizhana froze where she was.
“You followed me all the way from my house to my husband’s grave,” Galina said. “So I ask again, do you have me where you want me?” She slowly turned around.
Aizhana expected Galina to recoil, as everyone did upon seeing Aizhana’s half-dead face. But Galina did not. Perhaps because Aizhana’s hood still covered her, and the branches above filtered out the moonlight and made her features less conspicuous.
“You’re hideous, you know,” Galina said.
She can see me. Aizhana frowned. This was not the effect she’d been hoping for at all.
“Well, let’s have it then,” Galina said. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“I am here to kill you.”
Galina laughed, but it was the sound a wolf would make if it laughed: delighted and entangled with a snarl. It echoed though the cemetery, giving the effect of an entire pack of laughing wolves. Even Aizhana shuddered. “And why,” Galina asked, “would you want to kill me? It’s not that I believe you unjustified; I’ve affronted many during my lifetime. But I am curious what your particular reason is for hating me.”
There were multiple answers to her question. Galina had bought Nikolai for the mere price of four animals, as if he were an animal himself. Viewed him simply as a pawn in the Game. Failed to love him.
But most important right now, Nikolai needed more energy, and since Galina was a mentor, her energy would be particularly valuable—it would carry with it the ability to use magic. If Aizhana killed her, she could steal her energy and pass it on to Nikolai, and with the infusion of both Aizhana’s power and Galina’s magical ability, Nikolai would be unstoppable. He would no longer have to worry about fading. He could crush Pasha and take the crown. Aizhana bared her yellowed teeth in a smile.
But Aizhana didn’t have a chance to say anything before Nikolai spoke again. His tone now softened. “I meant I won’t abide this filth. I won’t have you staying in quarters like this.”
Nikolai snapped his fingers at the bed of lice, and it burst into an accelerated but contained fire, quickly burning itself to nothing. Then he snapped his fingers again, and two solid oak frames appeared. They were followed by a mattress and a heavy brocade blanket.
He narrowed his eyes. “Two mattresses, damn it,” he muttered.
“What do you mean?” Aizhana asked.
“I meant to conjure two fine horsehair mattresses. Not a single lumpy one.” He scowled at the bulge at the foot of the mattress.
But the muddy bubbles in Aizhana’s soul simmered giddily. Her son had attempted to take care of her. And he’d conjured two bed frames. “Does this mean you’ll stay?”
Nikolai nodded and sank onto the edge of the mattress-less bed frame, as if he were suddenly too tired to even be angry. “Thank you for taking me in, even though I’ve been less than grateful.”
“You owe me no apologies, my son. I am overjoyed you are here with me. And your magic—you have your power again.”
Nikolai sagged as his silhouette flickered. “Apparently not. Transforming the beds has taken much of the energy I have, and I didn’t even do it right. I’m sorry, Mother. The second mattress will have to wait, and the washbasin . . . perhaps tomorrow.”
Aizhana grinned with what remained of her teeth. She couldn’t care less about the washbasin. Nikolai was here. With her. And he’d called her “Mother.”
“I challenged Pasha,” he said. “I intend to take the throne. But I’m a fool if I think I can beat him like this. He has Vika on his side.” Nikolai’s shadow was fading, as well as losing its shape at its borders.
“I would do anything in my power for you. I will help you overthrow Pasha—”
Nikolai shook his head. “I don’t want your help.”
There it was again. Aizhana sighed. But she pulled him to his feet and led him to the bed that had a mattress. “Rest,” she said, as she draped the blanket over him. “And do not worry about your magic. You can always glean more energy.”
Nikolai yawned and nodded. “Right. I can always borrow more.” He sighed quietly and lowered himself onto his bed. Even with the fatigue, his movements were elegant, like the principal dancer in the Bolshoi Ballet, lying down to slumber onstage. Or so Aizhana imagined, for she’d never seen a ballet, but she had been a beautiful dancer, too, when she was young and her body was new. Her son had the same rare grace she’d once possessed. Probably more. Pride swelled in her putrefied chest.
Nikolai fell asleep within seconds. Poor dear, Aizhana thought.
He had made it clear he did not want what she could offer, but Nikolai needed this energy whether he wanted it or not, so she reached over and rested the pads of her fingers on the back of his neck, mindful to avoid grazing him with her claws.
This way was not optimal. Nikolai could wake and throw Aizhana across the room, or worse, cast her out into the street and never speak to her again. But this was her curse: condemned to trickery and sneaking in the night, even when it came to her own son.
But so be it, she thought. For mothers will do whatever needs to be done.
She poured energy into Nikolai until he shaded darker and his edges were less blurred again. He remained insubstantial—that was his curse, for now—but he was more here than not.
Here, with Aizhana.
“I love you, Nikolai,” she whispered.
Then she released him and kissed him on his forehead. “Sleep well. I shall return soon. I am going to have a little chat with your former mentor. One does not reject my son without consequence.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
In winter, Lazarevskoe Cemetery was a crowded plot of gray tombstones and statues and memorials, all covered in a heavy mantle of snow. Bare branches hung over the cemetery like outstretched claws. The old Church of St. Lazarus loomed in the background, somber and severe and a bit foreboding. Aizhana snickered, her quiet laugh like twigs snapping; Lazarevskoe Cemetery was the kind of place in which she felt particularly at home. Galina floated over the snowy pathways until she stopped at a grave marked by a marble cross cascading with roses. Aizhana hurried after her, her gait awkward in the uneven snow.
“Do you have me where you want me?” Galina asked without turning around.
Aizhana froze where she was.
“You followed me all the way from my house to my husband’s grave,” Galina said. “So I ask again, do you have me where you want me?” She slowly turned around.
Aizhana expected Galina to recoil, as everyone did upon seeing Aizhana’s half-dead face. But Galina did not. Perhaps because Aizhana’s hood still covered her, and the branches above filtered out the moonlight and made her features less conspicuous.
“You’re hideous, you know,” Galina said.
She can see me. Aizhana frowned. This was not the effect she’d been hoping for at all.
“Well, let’s have it then,” Galina said. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“I am here to kill you.”
Galina laughed, but it was the sound a wolf would make if it laughed: delighted and entangled with a snarl. It echoed though the cemetery, giving the effect of an entire pack of laughing wolves. Even Aizhana shuddered. “And why,” Galina asked, “would you want to kill me? It’s not that I believe you unjustified; I’ve affronted many during my lifetime. But I am curious what your particular reason is for hating me.”
There were multiple answers to her question. Galina had bought Nikolai for the mere price of four animals, as if he were an animal himself. Viewed him simply as a pawn in the Game. Failed to love him.
But most important right now, Nikolai needed more energy, and since Galina was a mentor, her energy would be particularly valuable—it would carry with it the ability to use magic. If Aizhana killed her, she could steal her energy and pass it on to Nikolai, and with the infusion of both Aizhana’s power and Galina’s magical ability, Nikolai would be unstoppable. He would no longer have to worry about fading. He could crush Pasha and take the crown. Aizhana bared her yellowed teeth in a smile.
