Where The Spirit Meets The Bone

Thirty-eight: Aleksander Morozova

Thirty-eight:

Aleksander Morozova

He heard the tail end of the conversation as Genya left. Enough of it that he knew that if he wasn't in love with her already, he was in the worst danger he had ever faced even more than all of the bullets and bombs he'd survived. He was in danger of falling in love with his wife, which was the last thing he needed. Yet it was everything.

"Alina," he said, "are you alright?"

She wrapped her arms around her chest. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at her. I know that she's the prince's cousin. It could cause difficulty for you if you're out of favor at court."

He walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You defended yourself. There's nothing to be sorry about. If the impertinent Prince has issues, I'll take it up with him myself. I'm very proud of you, Alina."

She wrinkled her nose. "You make me sound like a child."

"Oh no, that was a woman I saw," he said, "my wife, standing up for us, and our marriage. You were my Lady Morozova."

Alina smiled. "I don't like people acting as if....as if I'm weak. I know the choices I've made. They were hard choices, but I still made them. I'm not some fool."

"I know you aren't," he said.

She glanced down at his arm then. "Are you...are you carrying a basket?"

He glanced down at the basket that was on his arm. "Yes," he said, "we did agree to a picnic this afternoon, didn't we?"

She smiled at him. "I suppose we did. But you know, I didn't think that you were serious. At least not about the picnic part."

"Did you think it was a euphemism?"

Alina blushed. "Maybe."

He laughed. "It wasn't a euphemism. Not completely. Although I do intend on feasting on you, if you're up for it."

"I rather like the sound of it."

He kissed her. "Then, follow me."

He took her by the hand, and they left the house.

"How big is this place?" Alina asked as they walked.

"50,000 acres," he told her, "we have to keep the pond filled with fish, and the forest filled with game. Lords are caretakers of the land, but the King can take it away at any time if he so chooses. If he visits, it becomes the seat of power for Ravka, and the most important house."

"If he visits?"

"It doesn't happen so often anymore, but back in my ancestor's time, it was frequent. They didn't exactly have cell phones to make a call. It was a lot harder to get hold of someone."

"I suppose that's true," said Alina, gripping his hand tightly as they walked through the field to get to the lake, "you don't think the King would come to call while we're here, do you?"

He shook his head. "It isn't likely. The King these days likes to keep a distance from me. He thinks it makes him less culpable for all of the dastardly things that he makes me do. Even though he's the one that signs the orders for them. I'm merely a game theory specialist. I deal in models and science and strategy."

"But you were in battle when you were younger, weren't you?"

"Yes," he said, "when I was fool of a boy and I thought that that war meant glory instead of what it really means."

"What does it mean to you?"

"The little girl that can't go to school because the one nearest to her has been bombed and it might be again. Hospitals overrun because we keep on sending them more sick, dead, and wounded. Packages from loved ones unable to be sent because the roads are blocked again by tanks. People going hungry because trades been stopped in certain ports. The only ghost story that matters is war, because war is a horror story. Anything that stains the same ground children walk on with blood is a disease, that must be stopped."

"Can you?" Alina asked. "Stop it?"

"I don't know," he said, "but I want to."

She stroked the top of his hand, and he closed his eyes, enjoying her simple, gentle touch. It was just her, and him, alone in a field. He could have made love to her right there. But they weren't at the lake yet, and he wanted her to see it.

"I want to help you," she said, "whatever it is your doing.... I know there's something with the grisha."

He glanced down at her. "How did you figure it out?"

"The portrait, and the letters," Alina said, "they're from members of the second army, aren't they?"

He nodded. "Magic is the key. It might have been outdated once, but there were those that could make storms.....create fire....imagine the things that we could do with those powers again."

Alina bit her lip. "In Keramzin, there were grisha. I remembered a family of them living in my apartment building. They had portraits of their ancestors who had served in the second army and died on the wall."

"Did they have their powers still?" he asked.

Alina shrugged, just as they were coming up on the lake. It was the kind of clear, crystal blue water where you could see down to the colorful rocks at the bottom of it. Alina let out a gasp as she saw it. "Oh, Saints," she murmured, "oh saints.... it's beautiful. I've never seen anything so beautiful."

He smiled. "Look there," he said, pointing off in the distance.

There, off on the other side of the lake, was a white stag that was watching them. It looked them directly in the eyes, and then it bounded off into the woods.