Page 27 of Tiger's Tale
“Is that right?”
“Yes. We are wolves, living among men. To hide, we fool them. They think we are tame, like loyal dogs who play fetch. But we are wild at heart, aren’t we? You have this same quality. I have seen it in your mind.”
“What’s your point?” Nik asked.
“My point, boy...” the Death Draughtsman said, placing his hands on the door of the stall, his long fingers wrapping around the wood.
Nik swallowed, noticing that the man’s fingernails were jagged, broken, and too long. They were crusted beneath with dirt, like he’d been sleeping beneath the ground with his undead army and had recently exhumed himself from the soil.
“... is that, though sometimes solitary, wolves are also known to run in packs, to take down larger prey. I propose that we do the same. Perhaps you’ve heard the saying that goes, ‘A wolf doesn’t claw its own kind’?”
“Yes,” Nik answered slowly. “And... what is it we’re hunting, exactly?”
Grigor smiled; reached into the inside pocket of his floor-length, voluminous robe; and pulled out the largest, gaudiest, ornate emerald ring he had ever seen. As Nik gaped, Grigor answered, “My dear boy, we are hunting brides.”
* * *
It was that very evening after having sent word to Veru that he’d canceled plans for their morning ride, claiming he’d fallen suddenly ill, that they arranged to meet with the sisters. To say Nik was nervous was an understatement of the worst kind. He actually felt physically ill. He was in it now. Either Veru was going to go along with this farce and marry him, or she was going to banish him from her side forever. It was the worst kind of risk he could possibly take, and yet he felt he had to do it. He was sick of doing nothing. That much was true. It was time to move forward, one way or another.
“Sit back, boy. Relax. Everything is going to go according to plan. Remember: it’s the best thing for the empire. Everyone gets what they want. The empire will be stable with two tsarinas engaged to be married to very worthy, eligible, and wealthy suitors. They will have plenty of time to decide which of them wants to rule, as neither of us desires such. And should Stacia wish to marry another at some point, we can arrange a dissolution with some sort of contract. As for you and Veru, the two of you can arrange your union as you wish. Trust me. It will work.”
“How can I relax when all I care about in the world is at stake?”
“You know what I can do. Even should they not want to listen to reason, they will not be able to resist the powers I possess. It’s for their own good and the good of the empire. When it comes to that, how can you doubt me?”
“I knew what you could do for their mother, and yet I saw you falter.”
“I told you; I did not falter. There was no hesitation or lack of skill on my part. The woman simply refused to live. Most beings reach for some semblance of life. She wouldn’t. It was a first for me.” He waved a hand in dismissal. Nik noticed that even though he’d cleaned up, slicked oil through his long, wiry hair, changed his heavy robes for more lavish clothing, and wore expensive jewels, he still looked...old. There was nothing modern about his selections. The jewels were garish and unattractive, his beard unkempt, his eyes wild, and there was still dirt beneath his too-long and cracked, broken fingernails. He brushed something from his fur-lined robe. “It was for the best anyway. Now we are in a better place to take what we want. No?”
“I guess,” Nik said, looking away from the man, trying to hide the disgust.
“What is with the guessing? Tonight you will be accepted. Tonight you will celebrate your engagement to your lyubit, the beauty of the empire. Enjoy this moment.”
“They aren’t duraki or simple nesting dolls you can shuffle around. It’s very likely they’ll see through all this.” Sweat broke out on Nik’s temple as he plucked at his vest. He yanked on the tight collar circling his neck.Why did the wealthy wear so many clothes?He longed to remove the tight jacket. “Where did you get these clothes anyway?” he asked, shifting in the bouncing carriage.
“Do you really want to know?” the man asked, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Nik could only imagine. He could almost smell the vague stench of the undead on the clothing despite the heavy splash of cologne the Death Draughtsman patted on Nik’s person when he climbed into the fancy vehicle. It was too much. He couldn’t even stand to be around himself. How could he expect a tsarevna to like it?
“No,” he admitted. “I don’t want to know.” Nor did he want to know how he and his newfound “father” had ended up being the exiled royals of a small island kingdom, along with the paperwork and enough wealth in the form of rubles, gold, and gems to prove it,andthe sworn testimonies on paper from dozens of neighboring countries, dignitaries, and clergy.
That the papers were forgeries was certain since they’d only hatched the plan that morning, but the rolled and sealed forms were cleverly done, created by an expert. It was the wealth that boggled Nik’s mind. With all the treasure he had at his disposal, why in the world was a man that powerful searching for simple charms? It made no sense. Then to seek the hand in marriage of the tsarevna? Did he want to be the tsar? Was that his aim all along?
Truthfully, Nik was the one who felt like a durak. He was missing something. Biting his lip, he thought that he didn’t even care if Veru agreed to the marriage or not. If he could simply steal her away, even for a moment, then perhaps he could explain how he’d brought a viper into their home. Maybe she’d forgive him. Maybe she’d kill him. He probably deserved it.
But then what if she said yes? Then what would he do? Continue to play the man’s game? Pretend he was something he wasn’t? Watch as the man likely killed Stacia or, at the very least, controlled her like a puppet? Nik didn’t particularly like Stacia, but he didn’t hate her. He thought she’d make a very good tsarina, in fact. The empire neededsomeoneto rule, after all. And Stacia was a good sort of person for that.
The thing was, if he could take the man at his word, the plan didn’t actually sound all that bad. Giving the twins more time wasn’t abadthing. The empiredidneed stability. But anyone who promised to give you everything you ever wanted at no cost to you was lying. Making a deal with the devil always ended with regret.
Then there was no more thinking. They’d arrived. Whatever power the Death Draughtsman used to control those around him still worked on the soldiers, because they mindlessly opened the gate for their carriage, not even asking who they were. Then, when they pulled up at the front door of the palace, other servants, their eyes glazed over, opened the carriage and guided them up the steps and into the lavish front hall, taking them all the way into the receiving room, a place reserved for only the top dignitaries. Nik had never set foot in that room before.
Inside the opulent room with floors polished to a sheen that sparkled so brightly it was almost mirrorlike, the two of them were left, the heavy doors closing with a thump behind them. Above, sparkling chandeliers were lit with dozens of candles, their light reflecting from crystals dangling from the delicate gold-filigreed candleholders that were mimicked by other ornate candlelit sconces placed around the room at intervals, bathing the entire room in warm light.
At one end of the room was a raised dais with two gilded thrones and several padded benches flanking them on either side. Nik assumed these were reserved for Royal Counselors or other ranking officials. At the moment the thrones were empty. It appeared they were in a ballroom of some type. He was studying his image in the large mirrors that cast an “infinity” reflection since they were set on opposing sides of the room and frowning at his clothing, attempting to adjust the ill-fitting jacket and vest, when his “father” elbowed him.
The heavy red curtains behind the matching thrones shifted as if moved by the wind and then parted as the twins, dressed in courtly apparel, entered the room and were seated, accompanied by four Royal Guardsman wearing highly polished court armor, their swords at the ready. They took up positions on either side of the twins, and Nik, looking into the hard faces of the soldiers, knew instantly that these were not trainees but experienced men of war who had been recalled. He didn’t recognize a single one of them, which was probably both a good and a bad thing. It meant they didn’t automatically know him either.
He could see the shock register on the twins’ faces when they realized the two men standing before them were not, in fact, a king and a prince from a distant land but the monk who’d tried and failed to heal their mother, and Nik, the soldier they’d trained with for years, dressed up in new clothing.
