Page 74 of The Crown's Fate
“Better?” Ludmila asked, as she dabbed at Vika’s wrist with a towel.
“Yes, thank you. It still hurts, but it’s better.”
“It will probably scar.”
Vika’s unharmed hand went to her collarbone.
Ludmila’s eyes widened. “Oh, my sunshine, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s all right,” Vika said, even though it wasn’t. The crossed wands of the Game had been when everythingnotall right had begun. “I’m just glad you came when you did.”
“Me too. I’m also glad I brought you food.” Ludmila got to her feet and picked up the brown paper parcel she’d tossed aside when she first came in. She offered her hand and helped Vika up and to the table.
“I thought a fresh Borodinsky loaf and sausages might cheer you up. And it’s a good thing I broughtoreshkicookies with me, too. You could certainly use some of those.” Ludmila unwrapped the package and laid supper out before them.
Just listening to the warm, musical lilt of Ludmila’s voice felt like a breakthrough of sunbeams, however weak. A hint of a smile touched Vika’s mouth as she settled in at the table, tenderly resting her burnt wrist on the tablecloth. She picked up one of the walnut-shaped confections, its two halves stuck together with rich caramel, and nibbled at it. The sugar touched her tongue and then went straight through her veins to her wrist. Or so it seemed. Cookies really were the best medicine.
“I can’t believe you trekked all the way up here,” Vika said.
Ludmila kissed her on the head.
Vika melted.
“Will you be all right if I leave you? One of my customers’ nieces is getting married tomorrow, and I still have to bake all the sweets for the wedding. If you need me, though—”
“I’ll be fine, thank you. Now that the worst of the pain is past, I can make a poultice for the burn using one of Father’s herbal compounds. But really, truly, thank you. You’re so busy, yet you still traipsed through a storm to bring supper.”
Ludmila shrugged. “I love you, my sunshine. And that’s what happens when you love someone. Sacrifices stop being sacrifices simply because they make you happy. Caring for you makes me happy. So it’s not a sacrifice. It’s what I want to do.”
Vika set the rest of her cookie on the table and threw her arms around Ludmila. The melting snow on Ludmila’s cloak pressed cold and wet against her, but Vika didn’t care. All she wanted was to hug this incredible woman, who was not her mother but was, Vika realized,better. Ludmila had been here Vika’s entire childhood, as had Sergei. Perhaps this was why, even after the revelation that Sergei was not her biological father, Vika hadn’t felt the need to know or search for her supposedly “real” parents. Ludmila and Sergei were more real than anyone else could ever be.
Vika buried her face against Ludmila’s soft chest. “I don’t know who I am without magic.”
Ludmila stroked the black streak in her hair. “We are not defined by what wecando, but by what weactuallydo. You’re a fierce, smart girl, Vika, and you will find a way to make your mark even without magic in your veins. I know who you are. And I think whatever happens next will help you see who you are, too.”
Vika lingered in Ludmila’s embrace, comforted by her caramel-scented warmth. Vika still felt hollow inside, but at least she knew this was home.
A moment later, she released Ludmila. “I suppose I ought to let you return to the bakery.Bolshoie spasibafor helping with the burn, and for supper.”
Ludmila flicked a finger under Vika’s chin. “Hold your head high, my sunshine. Remember, it’s not magic that defines you. It’syouthat defines you. That’s all the truth that there is.”
Vika watched as Ludmila left and hiked back down the snowy hill. Thankfully, the storm had slowed to a flurry. When she was gone, Vika returned to the kitchen.
Her wrist hurt, but not as much anymore. She made a poultice with herbs from various glass jars Father had kept in the cabinet, and wrapped the cool bandage around her forearm and bracelet. Then she sliced the Borodinsky bread Ludmila had brought, heated a sausage, and made tea.
Vika sat down near thepech, warmed by the fire, and took a bite of her bread, chewing thoughtfully.
She might not have been able to use magic, but Ludmila was right—she wasn’t powerless, either.I am who I make myself to be.She finished her bread and sausage and sipped at her tea.
Then Vika smiled, picked up anoreshkicookie, and popped the entire thing in her mouth.
It was time to figure out what, exactly, she was going to do, and who she was going to be.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
As Nikolai stepped inside the rowdy tavern, he was hit by memories. The Magpie and the Fox used to be his and Pasha’s, where they came when Pasha wanted to sneak out of the palace and be anyone other than tsesarevich, and where Nikolai could put aside the strains of his enchanter training and feel like a normal boy. Nikolai’s stomach soured. He almost turned back around to head for the door.
But then what had begun as a queasiness in his stomach quickly shifted to a hard knot of anger. Why should Nikolai have to abandon the tavern simply because Pasha had once frequented it? Not everything should default to Pasha for the mere reason that he was heir to the throne. Besides, Nikolai would take the crown from him, somehow—perhaps even more easily now that Vika was forbidden from using magic—and then everything that was once Pasha’s could and would become Nikolai’s.
