Page 32 of The Bone Doll
“I am the Lord of Zoldrovya!” protested Igor.
“Not anymore,” murmured Viktor.
Then, the vines on the floor began to writhe. Even Viktor scrambled back, putting an arm out to shield Syra. But the forest didn’t want either of them. They curled around Igor, slithering and hissing almost like snakes. The lord roared for his son to help him, but Syra held Viktor’s arm. The forest wanted Igor, and she would not win against the forest. And she didn’t want to lose Viktor to it. Slowly, the vines dragged Igor across the floor and then through the window, the windowframe cracking as the lord’s body broke through.
Syra squeezed Viktor’s arm as he stared at the hole in the wall.
“I’m th-the Lord of Zoldrovya,” he murmured. “I’m aboyar.”
Her stomach sank.
“My mother,” he said. “My sisters.”
Syra stopped him. “What will you do?”
He glanced around as though looking for an answer. Finally, he said, “I’ll send them away. Irina is engaged; and my mother and Anna can go to my uncle’s estate.”
Syra nodded, stepping back. As pale as winter snow, Viktor looked exhausted and broken. Part of her wanted to hold him and whisper sweet words into his orange hair. But her heart still ached from his lies. And no matter how much he might need her comfort now, she couldn’t give it.
This would be a long night.
Chapter 22
An Honorable Man
With his mother and sisters sent away and the people who tended his lands settled, Viktor could finally bring Syra home. And though she should be happy, she just felt … numb. She wished she could kiss Viktor at night, but she hurt too much to even try. And in the end, he would need to return to Zoldrovya as its lord. Wasn’t that for the best? She should not want a liar.
Viktor led them in reverse. Three days through the forest to Beluvod along the great, glass-like lake that was large enough to be a sea. They stopped at Viktor’s townhome, where the old man Yefrem scowled and sighed over their story.
“The boy has many wounds to heal,” Yefrem said when he caught her studying Viktor one evening.
Syra said nothing.
“Including wounds he inflicted on you, it seems,” said the old man.
Part of her hated Viktor for dragging her through Ruthenia, his lies nearly killing her. But part of her still wanted him, those soft lips and his kind gestures. She slid her fingers over the Bone Doll. “He lied to me.”
“Trust is hard to mend,” Yefrem acknowledged. “But I think he will work his entire life to do it. The boy is fond of you.”
Like a child was fond of their first reindeer? She folded her arms in front of her chest.
“When Viktor was a lad of maybe sixteen or seventeen, he caught the eye of a girl of about the same age,” Yefrem said. “Her name was Yuliya, and he would have done anything for her. Lord Igor noticed the pair, though, and decided to use Yuliya for his own purposes. Lord Igor always wanted Viktor to be more like him, so he paid Yuliya and her family to insist that Viktor prove himself a suitable match – or Yuliya would be forbidden from seeing him.
“They demanded that Viktor prove himself in a tournament. He could pick – hand-to-hand, wrestling, sword-fighting, archery. Viktor chose hand-to-hand. And while Lord Igor was certain that Viktor would be spurred on by teenage lust and finally find a propensity for violence, Viktor is not a violent man. His first opponent not only defeated him, but left him unconscious for two days.
“Lord Igor, of course, would not let that be embarrassing enough,” continued Yefrem. “He paid Yuliya extra to come to Viktor in his sick bed and berate him for being a weak coward who could never defend a woman.”
Syra closed her fist around the Bone Doll, which lay dormant in her pocket now, and wished she could fight people who were long gone. “That was a cruel trick.”
Yefrem nodded before shuffling away.
Syra went to Viktor. He was carefully sharpening the gutting knife that she had gifted him. She touched her throat. She no longer had her beaded necklace.
“What sort of woman does a Ruthenian lord marry?” she asked. “The daughter of a Prince, like your knights?”
Viktor closed his eyes for a moment and then, not looking up, said, “There aren’t enough Prince’s daughters to go around.”
She cocked her head. “The rest of you are unmarriageable?”
