This Isn't About Reya

Chapter Forty-Two

The Tsar of War was not alone in his office when the door opened and Svetlana Nechayev was brought forward, a pale and shaking boy following a few feet behind her. Kharkevich stood at his desk and watched them expectantly, flanked by two bledno-pauka. Two more escorted Svetlana and Daniil; another two yet entered the room after them, shut the door, and then stood guard on either side of it.

Dawn was not far away. The sky behind the Ram was already lightening, the clouds growing ever so slightly brighter, the first hints of daylight peeking through the veil of the horizon. The room itself, however - sterile and plain, save the ornate desk and chairs in the center of the room - was still illuminated by a bright hardlight glow. By its light, Kharkevich could see murder in Svetlana's eyes, and the boy behind her was clearly ill.

The bledno-pauk leading the two children brought them to a halt in front of the desk and saluted. "My liege," he reported. "Svetlana Nechayev and Daniil Bystrovich, per your request."

Kharkevich nodded at the man and eyed the children carefully. "At ease," he murmured. 

The reporting bledno-pauk then walked around the desk and stood closely next to him, removing the rebreather on his facemask from the rest of his helmet. Kharkevich leaned in to hear the man.

"There's something wrong with the boy," he whispered, "but we can't tell what."

"Hmm," Kharkevich hummed. He stepped around the desk and approached Svetlana, looking into her eyes. They were a cold olive tone, like her father's.

"Miss Nechayev," he said, managing a polite smile. "You've grown since I last saw you."

Svetlana smiled politely back at him, but made little attempt to hide the venom in her gaze. "Last time we spoke, I was a little girl. I've grown quite a bit since then."

Kharkevich nodded. "I imagine most of this growth has occurred recently."

She shrugged at him. "It's been an interesting month, my liege."

Kharkevich shook his head at her. "I've known your father since he was a boy, and I've known you since the day you were born. Call me Luka."

Svetlana gave a slight curtsy. "Of course."

The Ram returned to his chair behind the desk and sat down, motioning for Svetlana and Daniil to do likewise. They followed suit, the boy more stumbling into his seat than sitting in it. Kharkevich eyed him for a moment, but the boy's eyes were glazed over, unfocused. He seemed to stare at the space in front of him more than anything else. Svetlana watched him, as well, concern edging her face, before returning her attention to the Ram.

"So," the Tsar of War began, "I believe there are some things we need to tell each other."

Svetlana nodded at him. "My father complicates things, you know."

Kharkevich nodded knowingly. "I cannot keep secrets from him," he sighed, readjusting his position in the chair. "You understand this."

Svetlana nodded at him. "Yes, I do. But I wanted to start with that. He's a large part of the reason I haven't acted before this." She paused, turning to stare at Daniil for another moment. He did not return her gaze. "I know now that I shouldn't have let that stop me. But as I said, I was a little girl, playing a game I knew nothing about. I made mistakes." She looked Kharkevich firmly in the eyes. "People have suffered because of me. But I had to begin my redemption somewhere."

Kharkevich nodded again, slowly, watching the girl's face. "I can't say I blame you," he replied. "These matters are... complicated, to say the least. I often find myself unsure of how to act these days. Your father, on the other hand..." He paused and scratched his beard. "He always seems to think he knows what to do. He certainly does his job as adviser. I can see how that might have deterred you."