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“First, Iaros would never do such a thing.” He downed the last of his vodka and slapped the mug down onto the table. “Never. Second, your brother has left out an important detail. We demanded the boy as proof of their sincerity.”

“They don’t have the boy.”

The grin that Grigory pasted onto his face was one that Atiana dearly wished she could wipe from it. “Just so.”

“So our fathers and the other dukes would tear down the north so they can what? Install their own men in their stead?”

“Is there any other choice?”

“It cannot hold.”

“Neither can the status quo. Did you know, Atiana, that while you were holed up in Radiskoye, there were food riots on Nodhvyansk and Bolgravya?”

Atiana tried to hide her surprise. “I did not.”

“One of them on Tolvodyen lasted four days. And while it is clear that the Maharraht are focusing their attention on Khalakovo—ancients only know why—they still have enough strength to stage a crippling raid on a keep in Dhalingrad.”

“Times are hard.”

“This is my point.” The vein along the side of Grigory’s forehead pulsed heavily. “There is no room for error in the seasons to come. If we do not do something, there will be nothing left. For anyone.”

“So why not take what we want...”

“Da! Why not? You may not have noticed while playing trump with your sisters, but Khalakovo has been lording their advantage over your father and the rest of us for decades. It is time that came to an end. It is time for the balance to shift.”

As he reached forward to pour himself another drink, Atiana was drawn by something shifting within his shirt. She had seen his chain when he had walked out to meet her, but she had paid no attention. Nearly all the men in the Grand Duchy wore their soulstones on stout chains such as his, but she realized now that he didn’t wear just one chain; he wore two.

One held Grigory’s stone, of course, but she knew now that the other held Nikandr’s. It only made sense. He was in an unfamiliar place in a dangerous time. He would want such a prize close at all times. Plus, it would feed his fragile ego, lording Nikandr’s stone like a prize. It was not normally done, as the stone, despite its long affiliation to Nikandr, would be imprinted with some of Grigory’s soul, his thoughts. When Nikandr was reunited with it, it would have a stain, a scent that would taint Nikandr’s life for years to come.

Atiana quickly finished the last of her drink and placed the mug next to his. He paused, looking up at her with a harsh expression, but then he relaxed and filled both mugs a healthy amount.

Atiana shrugged as she accepted hers from him. “It’s true. Khalakovo has been unrelenting in his diplomacy.”

“You have a gift for understatement.”

She allowed a smile to warm her face. “Well, then—how can I say this?— it’s good to be in a place where I’m wanted.” She held his gaze. “Assuming, of course, that I am wanted.”

“Of you, I could say nothing else.”

She glanced at the bed in the corner, utterly unsure of how she was going to get the necklace away from him. “It feels like years since I’ve been in a proper bed.”

He stood, a token of gentlemanly behavior. “Do you wish to rest?”

“I am more tired than I have ever been, Bolgravya.” She downed the last of her second glass of liquor, willing it to fill her so that she might be numb to at least a portion of what was to come.“But in all sincerity”—she stood, moving toward him until they were face to face; she set the mug down, allowing her free hand to run along the front of his shirt—“that is the furthest thing from my mind.”

Nearly an hour later, they lay naked in his bed, Grigory snoring softly and Atiana fighting to stay awake. He had refused, even through their lovemaking, to remove his necklace. She had not forced the issue, for she hadn’t wished to draw attention to it, but the time was nearing where either she would be sent inland or he would be called away for further duty.

She nuzzled closer, laying her hand on his hairless white chest, far away from the bandages that were wrapped