Seven Witches

thirty-three

Vladimir;

Vladimir stared at the paper cut on his thumb, confused that it had not healed in the past five days. He thought he deserved it, considering he had been harsh on Princess Eva when she was not at fault, that even when he apologised before she left she was still upset.

The week had passed and he was finally released of his duties to attend royal balls everyday and accept gifts from Princes and Dukes. He was sure that there will be no way he'd be able to make use of all the gifts.

And then he had received a fresh stack of paper work and had it dumped on his desk. The first thing he did was flip the stack upside down because his advisors always kept the papers they didn't want him to see at the bottom.He wondered if they were foolish enough to not have figured out for all this time.

The first document on the pile was a letter written in worn out paper folded into a makeshift envelope with no seal. It was odd for him to receive such letters so when he opened it he did not anticipate what was in it.

The writing was lousy and made with cheap ink, the grammar betraying how little education she received.

It was brief, only containing the following: French soldiers smuggling gunpowder in Yedrovo.

And then, in small font she wrote next to her name; stay safe.

Cythera had sent him several letter before, but never was he ever attached to any of them, not until today. Vladimir wanted her to write more letters, with her clumsy fingers and insufficient grammar.

He wrote a reply of his own, constructing the paper as informal and well as he could. However, he used regular ink instead of his usual molten gold, and then he sealed it and gave it to his servant boy. "Stay with her, don't return unless you have a reply with you," the Tsar handed him the paper. "Understood?"

The boy nodded, bowing before rushing outside. He sat back and held the letter in his hand, it smelled like cider and alcohol and he wondered if she was drinking when she wrote it.

He wished she wasn't, that she won't ever have to drink the way he does.

Going through the rest of the papers, he picked the pipe out of his drawer, shoving the tobacco in and then lighting it. He did not get the chance to smoke it, not as knocks sounded on his door and his secretary walked in. "Her highness Queen mother wishes to see you, moy Tsar,"

The Tsar set the pipe down, placing the letter in his pocket. The servant told him his mother would be waiting in the art room, bowing deeply before excusing himself. On his way there, Vladimir paid close attention to the pain in his head. His neck hurt from hunching for too long, his eyelids drooping from exhaustion. He had not slept in a long time, and when he did, the sleep did not last long.

He wished for a night's sleep the way he had it when Cythera was there. He didn't know what she did or how she did it, but he was desperate for it... for her. There was no amount of praying and wishing that would bring him his sweet sleep back. Vladimir dreaded every minute she was away. She had left and taken his heart with her.

He opened the door to the art room, finding Iskra and his mother sitting side by side drinking afternoon tea and eating freshly cut fruits. The scent of tea and fruits filled the room, the warmth from the furnace a lovely blanket that wrapped around them.

His mother still had a stern look on her face, but she was smiling regardless. "You called for me?"

She patted the empty seat beside her and he sat, keeping his hand in his coat to stop himself from staring at the cut. "Yes," she began, folding a napkin twice and setting it on the table. "Remember when I told you I'd find a solution for you illness? Well I found a ship that will take you to Egypt, they have the best doctors there, I heard they used unusual methods to cure their patients that were near miracles,"