Rasputina and the Witch's Tsar

Chapter Forty

         "More." I hold out my glass, staring expectantly over it at the tavern owner.

He makes no hurry in fetching a pitcher. "You've had enough."

"More!" I moan at him, only to be dragged back by my shirtsleeve by a young man, toppling over my stool in the process.

"He said enough." Kaskil shoves me backwards, his nose curling in disgust.

I shake my head at him, seething. Feeling angry and dizzy and glaring at him with all of hell's fury. "Oh, shouldn't you be with Ursula?" If I wasn't so miserable, I'd realize that this was my friend. Ursula and Kaskil had given me a place to stay until the palace took me back. Until Pareskevas took mercy. I wince, clutching at my bandaged torso as I only get dizzier.

"Rasputina..." He helps me stand, half from the liquor and half from the injury that's still healing from when that wannabe assassin stabbed me. "I know you've been through so much, but think of your children..."

"Think of your children." I growl, "you shouldn't be following me."

"Because it wasn't for me that I came here, you egotistical ass." Kaskil carries me, none-too-gently, to one of the tavern rooms to the side. On wooden stools, with her arms primly folded in front of her, sits a woman with a red scarf and piercing eyes.

Agapi.

A headache rages at me with a vengeance, and I stumble into my seat, my eyes still latched on hers. She takes my hands, kissing the backs of them.

"You saved me," she whispers, uncaring what a mess I am. "You resigned yourself to exile for me."

"Please, leave me. Give your adoration to somebody who deserves it."

"Maria..."

I remove my hands from her desperate grip, dropping my head and face to hide further. "Why are you kind to me? Why not just wish me dead and kill the witch? It's what all of Russia seems to want."

"That woman was an assassin. Mad." Kaskil amends.

"I must repay my debt to you. That is why I follow you." Agapi's voice, insistent, forces me to gaze into her eyes.

"You are serving a corpse." I tell her.

She gets to her feet, ever so slowly. Agonizingly so. "We are all corpses someday..." And when she turns away, just a flash of red in my vision, her final words hurt more than the dull ache of my physical wound. "I thought you were more than that."