Citadels of Fire

by L.K. Hill

  Chapter 23

  Taras did not see Inga for three days. Each day, he made his way to the servants’ quarters to find out how she fared. Each day a different maid met him. Firmly, with many repetitions of “my lord” and “Master Taras,” they showed him out, claiming to have no knowledge of Inga’s health.

  He would have cornered Yehvah, but could not find her. He suspected she kept a vigil at Inga’s side. Besides, Taras he had little time to wander the palace looking for people.

  On the fourth day, he still had no idea how she was doing. His afternoon was free and he resolved to find Yehvah if it took him until supper. Walking swiftly toward the servants’ quarters, buried in the heart of the palace, he resolved not to take no for an answer.

  Glancing down each corridor to the left and right as he passed them, his eye fell on someone working not far from the maids’ apartments. Skidding to a stop, he backed up to get a better look.

  “Inga?” he asked, quickly changing direction.

  One look at her face told him she wasn’t well yet. Her skin looked paler than usual, dark circles lined her eyes, and, though it had only been three days, she looked thinner.

  She stopped working when she heard his voice and stood perfectly still, watching him approach. As he neared, he thought perhaps it was not as bad as he'd feared. She looked steady on her feet and held the duster with a firm hand. She smiled as he came close.

  He missed her smile.

  “Inga, I came to see . . . are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “How long have you been up and around?”

  She smiled sheepishly. “A few days.” When he lifted a disbelieving eyebrow, she hurried on. “I haven’t been outside the maid’s rooms much. Yesterday morning, early, I walked around in the courtyard for the exercise. Other than that, I’ve been confined to my rooms. This is the first day I’ve returned to my duties.”

  “I see. I’ve been by to see how you were, but couldn’t get a straight answer.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You came to see me?”

  “Yes.” He chuckled. “Your friends let me know plainly that I wasn't welcome.”

  “Oh.” Inga leaned over a long, thin table to straighten an embroidered runner underneath a colorful vase. “I’m sorry, Taras. If I’d known, I'd have sent word. I thought you would be busy, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “It would have been no bother. The last I saw of you, I didn't know if you would survive.”

  She put her duster down to straighten a tapestry that didn’t look askew. Then she turned to him. “I don’t think I was ever in much danger," she said with soft reassurance.

  “You weren’t?”

  She shrugged. “You got me back to Yehvah in plenty of time. I suppose I ought to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “If you hadn’t come with me to market, I would have fallen into the river. I certainly wouldn't have made it back to the palace, and no one would have known to look for me. Twice you saved my life that day.” She gazed up at him through her eyelashes. “Thank you.”

  He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he nodded. They stared at one another for a few seconds, then she turned back to her dusting.

  “Inga,” He took her wrist and gently turned her to face him. Stepping closer so he stood over her, he tried to look into her face, but she stared straight ahead, at his chest. With his forefinger, he lifted her chin. “What you did in the Square was amazing.”

  She barked a laugh, looking away again. “It wasn’t amazing, Taras. That child won’t survive. He’s probably gone, even now.”

  “Yes, but Inga, that’s my point.”

  She frowned.

  “You must have known he wouldn’t survive. Yet, you held onto him and nearly got yourself killed. If you knew what his fate would be, why did you try to save him?”

  She swept her gaze around, only throwing a glance his way every so often, and then looking away again. Shrugging uncomfortably, she gave a soft, shaky laugh. “I don’t know.” She searched the air for an answer. “I know what it’s like to be cold and alone and parentless.”

  Her mouth settled into a firm line. Taras remembered her saying something about her father abandoning her as a child. He wondered now if the set of her mouth came from sadness or bitterness.

  “If he only had a few days or hours left,” she said, “he ought to have spent them in a warm place. Not in the depths of a dark, icy river.” She looked down at her feet. “I don’t know why I held on, except if I hadn’t, I couldn't have lived with myself.”

  “Perhaps it’s the things we hold onto the hardest that make us the most human,” Taras said quietly.

  She gave him a forced, cheery smile. “You see, it was not heroism, but rather selfishness. It doesn’t make any sense at all, I suppose.”

  “Inga.” He waited until she met his gaze again. “You make more sense to me than anyone I’ve met here. I don’t think you know your own strength.”

  She stared into his eyes now. He trailed the back of his fingers along her cheek, letting them slide down her jaw. His thumb and forefinger took hold of her chin, lifting it toward him. The heaving of her chest became more pronounced. He leaned in toward her. She watched his face come nearer before closing her eyes. He closed his as he reached her.

  “Inga!”

  The angry voice startled Inga so much, her entire body jerked. She jumped far enough back to be completely out of his grasp. Taras let his breath out slowly, clinging to the sensation of her lips brushing against his, though they'd barely touched.

  Inga turned slowly toward the steely voice. “Yes, Yehvah?”

  Yehvah stood ten feet behind Inga. Taras had not heard her approach. She glared at Taras, her eyes threatening to scorch him where he stood. She shifted her gaze to Inga, her chest heaving. Her calm voice belied her crimson looks.

  “Bogdan needs your help in the kitchens.”

  Inga turned back toward Taras, giving him a half-apologetic, half-mortified look. She walked around Yehvah and disappeared around the corner.

  Yehvah glared at Taras as Inga’s steps retreated. Taras gazed back at her levelly. She meant to intimidate him with her anger, but he had no reason to be intimidated. She was, after all, only a maid.

  “My Lord Taras,” she said in a carefully controlled voice when Inga’s footfalls faded, “Inga is still not well.”

  Taras nodded. “I can see that.”

  Her eyebrows jumped. “And yet still you are here . . .” She studied the wall, emotions running across her face faster than Taras could register them.

  He sighed, trying to understand. “You think I’ve acted inappropriately?”

  Yehvah let out a bitter laugh. “My lord can do whatever he wishes.”

  “Yehvah.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to come out so sharply. It startled her, and he quickly moderated it. “You know me. You know you can speak without fear. If you have something to say to me, say it.”

  She stared at him, flat-eyed, for several seconds. When she spoke, her voice sounded stern, but quiet. “I don’t want Inga hurt.”

  “Why do you assume I’ll hurt her?”

  Yehvah frowned, undecided. “My lord will forgive me?”

  “I told you I would.”

  She nodded. “Inga is the closest thing I have to a daughter. I look out for her.”

  He nodded. “I know that, too.”

  “You are a boyar. You are . . . different from us. I’m not saying you don’t have a good heart. I’m saying it doesn’t matter at all.” The words came faster and angrier as she went on. “You courtiers play your games and your intrigues. You take mistresses and throw them away at a moment’s notice. It doesn’t matter what you feel for her. That’s simply the way it is. You will end up hurting her.”

  Taras stared at her for a long time, fighting down the anger her words ignited in his chest. He walked toward her, seething. He would be well within his rights to hit her if he wanted, but
he'd never struck a woman before, even a servant. He did not want to start now.

  He did not stop until he stood directly over her. Yehvah was taller than Inga, but Taras still towered head and shoulders over her.

  “Yehvah, look at me.”

  She trembled, but relaxed her shoulders and lifted her chin a fraction of an inch. Only then did her gaze rise to meet his.

  “I am not a courtier.” He glared his meaning into her eyes for another second, then walked away.