They’d only known each other for a short while, to be honest—three years at the academy, and then another year at Rurik Castle, when they’d worked there together, he on the War Council, and she with her team of mages and artificers. The happiest year of her life. She’d had her work, and Luka had been with her…and then it had all changed. Now, three years later, they were both different people.
Maya walked past lush green lawns, admiring the grey mountains that rose in the distance, touching the white clouds and the dawn just breaking in the sky.
The walk stretched out all the muscles that had grown cramped from the long carriage ride to the Kamenev province, and Maya enjoyed the slight burn in her calves. She’d given up regular exercise in the four years since she’d started her career as an artificer.
After graduating from the military academy, she’d joined a small team of mages and artificers working on magic powered armaments. Her colleagues had been much older then her, and the only other woman among the team was a noblewoman who had been widowed young.
As the only person without magic on the team, Maya was the only one there who was only an artificer. She couldn’t create mage spells, nor could she work metal with her magic.
But Maya found that her unique position helped tie the team together in unexpected ways. As a person who worked purely by theory, she was able to make leaps of insight and come up with innovations that the others could not see. Their thoughts were constrained by what magiccoulddo, and so they had never learned to push past the boundaries it set for them.
Working at a desk for four years had had its disadvantages, though. It had been years since Maya had picked up a sword. She almost never went to bed on time. With long hours spent indoors, her burnished skin, a sign of her mixed heritage, had grown sallow.
Her lungs burning as she reached a small building set away from the house proper, Maya slowed her pace. This looked like the stables. She would take a moment to catch her breath, pet a few horses, and then make her way back.
Maya entered the horses, her eyes narrowing at the sound of a low voice. The groom was out by the front, mucking out stalls. It couldn’t be Luka, not with that foot of his.
So who was out here in the stables in the early morning chill?
Maya slunk closer, stopping when she drew near the voice and realized it was just Stoffel, Luka’s trusted aide, and second-in-command of the Stonehart regiment. The man was grooming a nervous looking horse, his brush moving in slow, methodical swipes down the horse’s black coat.
He seemed to realize she was there, because Stoffel turned to meet her, his eyes as warm as his smile.
“Good morning, Lady von Rakhmonov.”
He was a tall man, wiry and long limbed, with blonde hair cut short in a fashionable court style. While Luka’s hair had hung limply in his eyes, Stoffel was more put together. He looked happier than his commanding officer, and the thought made rage lick at Maya. Why wasn’t Stoffel helping Luka, if things were truly this bad?
“Mister Peshkov,” Maya said brusquely, trying to tamp down on her anger.
“Thank you for accepting the Prince’s invitation to Kamenev, my lady.”
“You meanyourinvitation,” she said, and smiled grimly when Stoffel flushed guiltily. “Luka doesn’t want me here. Why did you lie?”
Stoffel was silent for a long moment, his hands still moving rhythmically over the coat of the horse before him.
“This is Darkbolt,” he said, nodding at the horse before him. “He carried the Prince into battle against Telluria.”
As if in response to that name, the horse whinnied, eyes growing larger. Its ears swiveled quickly, and Stoffel murmured softly to it in a soothing voice, his words too low for her to hear.
“Alright,” Maya said, nonplussed. Why were they talking about a horse?
“Darkbolt saw terrible things in war. It has left him…anxious,” Stoffel said slowly. He turned to meet Maya’s gaze, his eyes widened significantly.
“Like his owner?” Maya said, hazarding a guess.
“Precisely, my lady,” Stoffel said, giving her a sad smile. “It has taken a long while for Darkbolt to learn to be comfortable again, even in the midst of the peace of Kamenev. He startles at sudden sounds, and he’s afraid of strangers.”
“And did he also suffer an injury?” Maya asked softly. Dread twisted in her gut as she recalled the sight of Luka’s lumpy foot, wrapped in bandages and hidden from sight but obviously, still incredibly painful.
“Not physically,” Stoffel said slowly. “And sometimes, the wounds of the mind are harder to heal than physical ones.”
For a long time, neither of them spoke. Maya stayed silent as her thoughts whirled, first to the past, when Luka had stood by her after those terrible upperclassmen had attacked her, how he and Volkov had made her feel like she wasn’t so alone, even when she and Luka hadn’t yet been friends.
Now, Luka needed her help.
She did not doubt that Luka would be able to claw his way out of the darkness by himself, but why did he need to do it alone when he had his best friend there to walk beside him?
Maya cleared her throat. “I am confident Luka will be able to heal, though.” She shrugged. “It may take a while, but I have time.” After all, her deal with the Crown Princess didn’t have a time limit.
