Page 25 of Tiger's Tale
They didn’t even care what name passed his lips or look in the man’s direction.Do they not sense the same danger I do when it comes to the man?
The two of them were immediately ushered in to see the tsarina, which was also telling. Their mother must be in very grave condition if they were immediately led on through. It only took a moment after entering the royal chambers for his suspicions to be confirmed.
To Nik, it appeared as if they’d arrived too late. Their mother, the tsarina, looked dead already. Her body was small and completely still beneath the silken sheets; her tiny, white hands were crossed upon her chest, and though her dark hair was perfectly coiffed, and her pillow fluffed, she was as pale and lifeless as a plucked rose. Then he saw the merest flicker of movement where her breath stirred a ribbon tied at her neck.
Turning to the man beside him, Nik implored, “Is there anything you can do for her?”
The Death Draughtsman narrowed his eyes. “Let me pass.”
He approached the bed and studied the form lying upon it as he might a painting or a statue. Without looking up, he spoke, addressing the various men of religion keeping vigil at the tsarina’s side. “Leave the room. All of you.”
The men started, jowls quivering, incense wafting around their voluminous robes as their soft chanting ceased and they looked at one another and then at the tsarevnas across the vast room. She nodded in consent. One by one they shuffled out through a side door, and it snicked shut.
“Can you help our mother?” Tsarevna Stacia asked.
“Quiet,” he commanded.
Stacia obeyed—which surprised everyone, Stacia included.
Sweat broke out on the man’s face as he concentrated. He held the tsarina’s palm in his hand, pressing it between both of his and remained that way for some time; then he opened his eyes, gasping hard, and placed shaking hands on her temples. Remaining fixed in place, he began murmuring words none of them understood, and the room filled with clouds of color—pink, blue, purple, and gold, all roiling and undulating. Lightning snapped and sizzled and then dissipated.
Finally, the man sat back, away from the tsarina, resigned and with a somewhat stunned expression on his face. Turning to the tsarevna, he said, “She... she does not wish to be healed. And it wouldappearthat... despite my considerable abilities, I cannot force the issue.”
The sisters stepped forward, about to protest, when he held up a hand. “However, she has agreed to allow me to ‘facilitate’ a final conversation between you, assuming the two of you are agreeable.”
“We agree,” Veru said immediately while Stacia nodded stiffly.
“Very well,” the Death Draughtsman said. “Come, then. Take your places on either side of her, and each of you take one of her hands.”
The twins sat down, and when they took their mother’s hands in theirs, the strange man touched their mother’s forehead again. When he did, they were suddenly thrown into a dream, and they heard their mother’s voice.
“My darling girls!”
They spun around, and there was their lovely mother, dressed for a party, with her hair coiled up beautifully and pinned in place by a diamond tiara. Crying, both young women threw themselves into her outstretched arms.
“There, there. Now stop that, you two. Enough of tears. Not now. There isn’t enough time.”
“There would have been enough time if you’d let that man heal you,” Stacia accused.
Mila frowned but cupped her daughter’s cheek and patted it gently. “What that man offered wasn’t healing, my sweet.”
“If Nik trusts him, then I do,” Veru insisted.
Clasping Veru’s hands tightly, the tsarina said, “I know you miss your father. And I know you’re upset with me for leaving you too. But don’t be so afraid of being alone that you give your heart and your trust to just anyone. That goes for both of you,” she said, kissing both girls on their cheeks.
She sighed. “I’d hoped the two of you would be able to work out your differences before it came to this, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned as a leader and as a mother, it’s that you don’t always get to see the fruits of your labor. Still, you plant in the spring and look forward with faith in the summer that the rains will come and the sun will warm the ground and that there will be a harvest in the fall.”
Mila placed her hands on her daughters’ hearts, and the girls reached up to clasp her fingers. “The seeds of leadership have been planted. Let them take root. But be on guard. There are enemies all about you trying to sow corruption. Shore up your defenses. Promise me that above all else you’ll listen to your good hearts and minds. They’ll always lead you in the right direction.”
“We promise, Mother,” both girls echoed.
“And if you need to trust in someone, trust in one another. You’ve had your disagreements over the years, but the two of you can rely on each other. Help each other when you’re in trouble.”
Stacia and Veru eyed one another but nodded. “We will.”
“And the last thing. Your father and I will always be with you. We’ll watch over you. Do you remember the charm he always wore in battle, the one I wear now?”
“Yes,” Veru said. “It was supposed to protect him.”
