“Voivode,” something whispered, shattering the safe, quiet, painless black of sleep. Thrusting daggers of pain assaulted his skull, and his stomach turned in on itself. Ah, morning. Laczlo felt a pressure on his shoulder. Someone shook him.

  He cracked open an eye and found the world pleasantly dark rather than a horrid bright that scrambled the brain. Deus above, why did everything hurt?

  “Egh?” he groaned out, rolling to his side and shifting, slowly, to a skewed sitting position. He swayed but something made him feel that it wasn’t just a head-aching hangover that moved the world so. Widening the cracked eye, he made out a small, wooden room with a cot and a few pieces of furniture, including his strong box where the coin and valuables were kept. Laczlo stared at it, trying to figure out why his room in Goroden felt so much smaller and, well, shittier.

  Before him was the somewhat stout form of Mikha, his eyes and face sharp as ever, slightly too close for comfort. “She’s awake, Voivode.”

  “Eh?” He rubbed his face, swaying all the while. “Who’s awake?”

  “Silene Sevastiana, the spy from the West.”

  “Ah.” He blinked, sitting up straight, the foggy, aching haze suddenly exposed to the harsh burn of realization. “I’m on the ship! By Deus, we made it out!”

  “You told us to wake you when we were far from the shores, and she was awake.”

  “Ah. Good. Right.” He squinted at Mikha. “How long has it been?”

  “The sun is halfway through the sky.”

  “Oh. And the men—did they get enough rest and all that?”

  “They are rested enough. The ship’s in the sailors’ hands now, so all is well.”

  Laczlo sat back, relieved. “And did the voivode notice we left?” He put up a hand to stop Mikha. Some things were coming back, though it was slow goings and with a slight limp. He most certainly recalled all the wine he drank after meeting the spy. “Jora Gorodenski will have heard regardless. But certainly not where we’re going—that’s our advantage here. Let’s hope he’s not too embroiled in this scheme that he’ll give chase.”

  “I would hope not, Voivode. Such a thing would be risky for him indeed.” Mikha motioned to the door, his expression—though shrouded in the shadows of shut and dark room—was patient with only a hint of frustration seeping through. A mask? Or was he simply used to Laczlo’s embarrassments after all these years?

  I hope it is the latter. I think. Laczlo sighed and forced himself to stand. He wobbled, staggered, caught himself on the wall, and shook his head. “My luck is a turbulent thing, isn’t it? To think the spy is a runaway of the Rodezian nobility. Hah! My wife would be amused…” he trailed off, thoughts pulled towards home, settling something cold in his gut to join the sickness.

  “Do you think she might know this niece of Lord Zanik Sevastiana?”

  “Oh, likely so. Her father was Rodezia’s lord of Haltus and Keltil. Not quite royalty, but close enough to the king’s family. We should find safe harbor there should we need it. Are we close?”

  “I cannot say. Come, Voivode, the men expect you.” He smiled, and Laczlo could tell it was an honest one. “She’s kept at the bow.”

  He pushed off the wall and stood straight with some effort. “Water?”

  Mikha handed him a skin; Laczlo took it and sucked down half of it, then poured some into his hand and splashed his face, then drank some more till his mouth didn’t taste so sour, wishing he hadn’t continued to drink last night. “Am I presentable?” he asked, drying himself off and running fingers through his hair, sorting it out as best he could. Some days, he wished for the long hair of his warrior ancestors so he might just leave it in a druzhina’s braid, as those who lived east of the mountains still did. It’d be far easier that way.

  “You could use a bath, shave, and a change of clothes, but that would take some time. The only ports we will see until then will be for the night’s stay. But I think a rougher appearance would suit you for now.”

  Laczlo felt his face and the pricks of whiskers. “You think?”

  “For now, and perhaps for things to come, a coarse look gesturing to a more seasoned, martial background could be of use.”

  “Hm. Very well.” He went forward, trying to get used to the ship’s movements, and patted Mikha on the shoulder. “Your guidance, as always, is much appreciated, old friend. I could not do much of what is expected of me without you.”

  “Thank you, Voivode.” He bowed his head, and in the dark, Laczlo could not see much more than that.

  “Alright then. Out we go.” Laczlo stretched and slapped his cheeks, then opened the door and left the small chamber.

  The first thing he noticed was the damn sun. It pricked his eyes like needles and nearly made him stumble back to safety, but Laczlo braced himself and pressed on, squinting and trying to act like a warrior. After the brightness faded, and actual shapes became more visible, he took in the deck of the ship. It was long and relatively wide, with chests that acted as benches for rowing along the sides of the deck not currently in use, a somewhat recessed center for storage and sleep, and small outcropping cabins at the bow and stern, though the stern’s was bigger, where he’d slept. Most of his men were scattered amongst the deck, lounging about as the sail pulled them along. They turned as he exited, giving nods and grunted, “Voivodes,” from the closest few. The pack animals had been sold, servants and horses sent back to Nova with little explanation alongside a caravan of merchants. So now his party felt decidedly smaller. Now, it was just him, Mikha, and the druzhina. And the spy, of course.

  He felt the need to say something to all of them. A thanks, perhaps, or an explanation. But he couldn’t work up the courage, so he just gave a nod and lowered his eyes, making his way forward. It was no easy thing with the coiled rope, hustling sailors, and shifting deck, but he managed to stay upright, thank Deus. The captain of the ship caught up to him and spoke of their journey so far and what lie ahead, but Laczlo could not pay much attention. Everything swayed, and his head still ached. The way the sun reflected off the waves didn’t help. So he nodded and thanked the man to get rid of him, then kept forward till he reached the small, head-high cabin at the front. Isak was sitting outside it, playing dice with Oiir. They both went to stand, but Laczlo waved them down.

  “Any issues?” he asked his two druzhina.

  “None, Voivode,” Isak said. “She’s been quiet. No sightings of anyone following us either.”

  “Good. And she’s awake now?”

  “She is. Tried to escape when we reached the ship. She had to be subdued. Has been difficult since then.”

  “Ah. So she’s calm now.”

  “Calmer, Voivode, yes. Didn’t want to wake you to a spitting, kicking spy, is all.”

  He frowned. “Why was she fighting? She seemed agreeable earlier.”

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  “Spies hate being locked up,” Oiir grunted. “It’s in their nature. Makes ‘em think of a cell where they belong.”

  Isak nodded and grunted in agreement. “Maybe she thinks we are taking her back. I don’t know. No one’s spoken to her, keeping things tight and quiet, as sworn.”

  So she’s been taken, kept in the dark, and forced onto a ship to be sailed north when all she wants is freedom. Of course she is frightened and combative. Laczlo nodded and thanked them, for they had done their duty as best men of the blade could upon his poor orders, then went inside, which took little more than pushing open a curtain and ducking in. Rather than a somewhat reasonable—if not cramped—bedroom with storage he’d woken in, this was a suffocating, tiny room that served as further storage more than anything. And before him, she sat, hands and feet bound and tied to an iron handle on the side of a heavy chest. Beautiful, soft-faced, and filled with acidic vitriol.

  She scowled up at him. “Do you always blunder your way into mistakes like this one?”

  “You think my taking you away is a mistake?” All plans of sympathetic talk and understanding fled him, seeing her there, glaring at him like some insect. It was condescention. It was Kostuveski. It was Kapitalena. His father. “Saving you from the assassins? Taking you away from clear danger? Is all of this a mistake?”

  “The voivode knows of your treachery.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  She lifted her chin, and though it challenged his pride, he had to admit she wore the mantle of nobility well. “He was having you watched. You think he missed all your druzhina sneaking out and boarding a ship? Your servants leaving for Nova at night?”

  “Say he notices, what then?” Laczlo asked with more annoyance in his voice than he intended. “How does that help you? All of this is necessary, so why fight us?”

  “The entire reason I am here is to avoid having my name and station brought into the light and scrutinized! Is it so difficult to believe I just wished to disappear?”

  “Run from your family all you wish, but responsibility will find you no matter where you go.”

  “Speaking from your lived experience, are you?”

  He leaned forward and scowled in Silene’s face. “Be angry at me, but don’t give my men trouble. They saved your life and are continuing to save it by taking you with me. While I don’t have plans on handing you over to your family, who I am sure would be much appreciative to have you back, I can change my mind at any time.”

  She glared back at him for a long moment, then a slow smile crept over her face, as if she knew a secret he didn’t. “You really do try, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “To be a voivode. To hold it all together. But in you I see the same fear in me.”

  “You know nothing about me.”

  “I know that your wife is far more of a voivode than you. She’s the one who saved you from your own uncle, wasn’t she?”

  “Don’t speak of her,” he growled.

  “Men and their pride.” She scoffed and looked away. “I thank you for saving my life, but it was because of you and your friend Kostuveski that I was to be killed and everything I’d been working towards soiled.”

  “What were you working towards as a whore far from home?”

  “Now you want my story?”

  Through clenched teeth, he forced himself to be reasonable and acknowledge her position. Though it was not easy. “I know this all must seem threatening and sudden. But I have no intention to harm you. I bear a significant responsibility and you seem to be an important piece of it. And though it may not make sense, bringing you with us may be the best way to ensure your safety. Your enemies—my enemies—may be more numerous and far stronger than you once thought.”

  She paused, meeting his eyes, then lounged back on the chest she was bound to and sighed. “I suppose not much is gained from the frustration of my kidnappers, especially if they were also my rescuers, in an inadvertent fashion. I could have had worse fortune—I accept this.” Silene wiggled her hands, causing the ropes to jingle the metal handle of the chest. “But first, would you loose me? I am not going anywhere; you can be sure of that.”

  Laczlo did not have a blade on him, so he nodded and ducked outside. Everyone was as he’d left them. Upon emerging, he received somewhat wry grins, as if they were empathetic toward the annoyances he was currently dealing with. After all, they were the ones who’d hauled her on board, while Laczlo, had boarded, drank more, and fallen asleep about as soon as was possible. Thinking back to it, he felt a bloom of shame stir in his chest, and his cheeks went red. He took Isak’s knife and went back inside, where it was dark and no one could see his blush. He cut the rope and squatted on his heels, watching Silene stretch and make herself comfortable.

  “I ran away from home in spectacular fashion four years ago,” she said, relaxing back. “It was under an excuse for helping the family, but truly, I just wished to escape a particularly cruel match.”

  “What match?”

  “One your wife so happened to escape, in fact. The Great King’s second eldest—a demented bastard of a boy. Now a man, I suppose. Karnys Vestile—you’ve no doubt heard of him?”

  Laczlo nodded, recalling Kapitalena’s distasteful stories of the arrogant and cruel Karnys. “She told me about him. Even her father was so hesitant to make the arrangement that he was willing to send her to Vasia instead. A far greater political risk with less sure results, to be certain.”

  “Yes. Lucky her. Well, in her place, I was to be betrothed. My uncle was set on the match for it would grant us closer ties to the royal family, though why that would be something one would deliberately seek, I do not know.” She scoffed, running fingers through her hair, tugging out knots. Perhaps a nervous tick due to the story’s subject matter. “So I fled. But I was not a poor enough daughter to ignore the needs of my family, so I made it my intention, however na?ve, to try and gather information for our house. But as it turns out, such things are more difficult when separated from your near-endless resources and in a foreign land as a young woman with no connections. I quickly found myself with little money and gaining suspicion. But see, Voivode, a woman has certain advantages at her employ, even in a world of men. And I have always been pragmatic.”

  “You courted Voivode Gorodenski.”

  “First the druzhina around him and eventually the man himself. He is highly dissatisfied with his station and wife, so it was quite easy, especially when he learned of my Western heritage. He finds the ways of Rodezia mystifying and alluring. Odd, considering his proximity to the border.”

  Laczlo leaned forward. “And what did you gain from all this?”

  “Well, many secrets of this recent plot with grand bribery, of which you are currently benefiting significantly. But other things of lesser note you need not concern yourself with.” She smiled wide. “But one such thing is that Jora Gorodenski has his eyes set on Voiakh. He wishes to be Commander of the West himself. And he may just attain it, depending on where this scheme with the coalition-building leads.”

  “Oh.” Laczlo ran a hand over his face. This was all turning out to be far bigger than he expected. “So this doesn’t have much to do with the Church of Deus after all, does it?”

  Silene snorted. “Is the Crown of Armagne known for piety to this faith? The Olverin family? I think the appeal to faith is a cover. Your people’s Column has always been very opposed to new faiths, so it was likely chosen to blur true intentions.”

  “Which are?” he asked, feeling like he was drowning.

  “Oh Laczlo, for a voivode, you really don’t have the mind for schemes, do you?” The woman smiled sweetly though her eyes were not in it. Not quite belittling anymore, but certainly amused at his expense. “The Olverins are a front. This is too much coin for any one family, no matter how rich from trade. Whoever’s behind this seeks to take power in Nova. This is a civil war in the making.”

  He grunted, feeling as if the air had just been punched out of him. He went to press her further, but a warning shout from outside made him jump in fright. Oh no. Deus, please, don’t let it be what I fear it is. Laczlo scrambled outside, hoping the words he heard were twisted by the wind, and he heard something else by mistake. But as the sharp rays of sun cut into his vision, and the deck was alive with quick-acting men, he felt his stomach drop even further.

  “Voivode!” Isak shouted, leaping over a bundle of oars being hauled out. “We’re being pursued. Look.” He pointed behind them, and true enough, far past their wake was a smudge of a ship in the distance.

  “How do you know?”

  “They’ve oars out. No reason to unless they need to overtake us. These ships don’t row well, so either it’s desperate, or it’s a galley. And if it’s the latter…”

  Then it’s a war vessel. Laczlo squinted, leaning forward. With the sun shining off the waves, turning everything distant into a hazy blur, he could barely make out the ship, let alone any oars. But after a moment, he saw them dipping in and out of the water like minuscule legs. “Deus protects us,” he muttered, pushing back from the railing. Their sail was red, but that meant little, for few Vasian ships had plain white sails. Though he wished to believe otherwise, some piece of him knew who the vessel belonged to.

  “Think it’s Gorodenski?” Isak asked, echoing his own fears.

  “If he knows we’ve taken his… well, taken Silene, then he’d suspect she knew more than she was letting on, and thus, so do we. He’s brash and self-centered, but he’s also perceptive. He’ll have figured out my story of visiting was a lie, that I was investigating more private matters here. And with us running, he’ll know we found something.” Laczlo rubbed his face, the sense of defeat at having to fight another war of intrigue rolling over him like the unstoppable tide. “He’ll need to stop us. And maybe hired pirates are his means.”

  “Pirates, hm? Well, they’ve a mean surprise for them when they find a ship of druzhina.”

  “I doubt they’d intend to board.” Once more, Laczlo attempted to peer the distance and make out their pursuers. Indeed, it was too far to see, but he knew it in his gut. “They’ll burn us out of the water if given the chance.”