Vasi struggled to control the whimpers as Cook cleaned the ragged flesh. Tears dripped down the young girl’s face, and the older woman gently applied a poultice smelling of comfrey, sage, and lavender to the wound before wrapping it with clean linen.

Brida returned, her eyes widening as she stared at Vasi. After a moment, the young maid shook her head and mumbled to herself while she put the bucket of daisies by the sink.

“You’ll need to have that changed every day, you hear?” Cook demanded when she’d finished. “And best stay out of her way as much as you can.”

“What happened?” Vasi asked, searching for the piece of the puzzle that triggered Marika’s wrath. “Did something else happen at dinner tonight?” Thinking of the conversation in the garden between Marika and Lord Baine, Vasi wondered if that was enough to prompt her stepmother’s violence?

Cook snorted and went back to the stove, and Brida frowned as she watched the older woman walk away. Then the thin girl sighed, pointed to the mess on the floor, and said, “Let’s clean up while I tell you. Just be careful, right?”

Vasi nodded and knelt to pick up the biggest shards of the platter.

Brida leaned in and in a low voice explained, “Tsar Baine said Casimir didn’t negotiate a monopoly with Temavy, so he won’t get as much money. It’s still heaps of money, more wealth than that witch could spend in years, but you know it’s never enough for her. And she won’t receive any ’til Casimir gets back.”

But that was only days away, so why was Marika so desperate to sell Casimir’s estate?

Cook huffed as she moved around the kitchen, but to her credit, she continued to work as she muttered, “That by itself would be ’nough to set her off, but then the tsar said he was going to send someone else to negotiate peace with Cervene ’stead of Casimir ’cause he’s been gone so long.”

Vasi knew her stepmother would be upset about the money, but surely she wanted Casimir back, too. “But we’ll be all right, and he’s coming home this week.”

Brida shook her head. “I heard her talking to the tsar, telling him that Casimir would be perfect for negotiations in Cervene on account of all the connections he had there. She said your mum was from there, high up in the aristocracy—”

Vasi’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “That’s not true; my mom’s from Zelena. Tsar Baine even knows that.”

“I know,” Brida exclaimed with vehemence. “That witch just kept lying and laying it on thick, too. Saying how happy Casimir would be to serve the kingdom, that it’s his first joy. When that didn’t work, she . . .” Brida blushed, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “She kept touching him, brushing his hands, or wiping his face, or leaning over so he could see her goods if you know what I mean.”

“She’s revolting,” Vasi muttered as she dropped another shard into the waste basket.

Brida nodded slowly, her eyebrows raised high on her forehead, before continuing, “Anyway, as the party were fixin’ to leave, Nikolai asked why you hadn’t come to dinner and said something ’bout seeing you in the garden earlier this week. Marika said how odd you are now that your mum is dead. After they left, the mistress was saying how much power she would have someday. She’s convinced the tsar will make your father a duke and her a duchess if he’s successful. The last I heard was her telling Roza that surely one of the princes would marry her, then I left. I don’t know what else happened after she saw everyone off, but when she came back in, she was fuming sore and lookin’ for you.”

“The only way one of them boys would marry Roza was if they were forced to,” said Cook, still grumbling in her low voice.

Vasilisa’s mind reeled. It was easy to believe Marika would sell everything that wasn’t nailed down and then the floorboards if they would fetch a decent price, but this? “Even for Marika, that’s . . . unbelievable.”

Both women looked on Vasi with matching sympathetic frowns.

“Not so hard for me, to be honest,” Brida whispered before turning back to the mess.

“But surely Papa won’t go to Cervene. He’s been gone for . . .” Vasi choked back a sob. He’d been gone for so long. “He can’t come home only for Tsar Baine to send him away again straight away. Why would Marika tell the tsar to send him?”

But Vasi knew why. Marika’s appetite for fashion and prestige was unparalleled.

“You best hope he don’ go,” said Cook as she attempted to scrub a hole in a ceramic plate. “Cervene’s gone beserk, ’specially about Beloch. Rumor is the new queen regent is beheadin’our citizens in their city market. Belochians jus’ scramblin’ to come back. So much hate in that country, and they be blamin’ us for the tragedy of their royal family. Tsar Baine needs to stop worrying about the next festival and get serious ’bout his kingdom.”

Vasi pushed back her sweaty hair to stare up at Cook. “Do you think we’ll go to war with Cervene?”

“There was big gold and red signs all over the market square two days ago, tellin’ Belochian boys, ‘serve your country and get two square meals a day . . . and new boots.’ Them boys be signing up to die by the dozens, the poor fools,” Cook grumbled as she slopped soap onto the floor and slammed her next plate down.

“I heard rumors the king and queen of Cervene were dead at the hands of bandits. They’re blaming Beloch?” Vasi asked, stunned.

Cook grunted and turned back to her sink.

“From what Ol’ Klev tells me, they definitely hate us,” Brida said.

Old Klev Tenik traveled from Cervene to Beloch twice a month with a cart full of produce. His information was as reliable as his wares, and the sobering news dried up the conversation.

Several hours passed in silence as the women worked to clean up the kitchen and Great Hall from the evening’s festivities. Finally, when the work was nearly done, Vasi fumbled splinters and pieces of kindling into buckets for each of the rooms, eyes burning and blurring with fatigue. As she patted her pocket for tinder and flint, the crinkling of paper reminded her of the letter her stepmother had dropped in the kitchen.

Vasi returned to the great hall and lit a candle from the dying embers in the hearth. She smoothed out the letter, and her heart jumped when she recognized her father’s heavy stroke in the flickering candlelight.

My dearest Marika,

I’ve completed my negotiations with Temavy’s sovereign. The gravity of recent offenses made this an especially challenging assignment. There is much commotion regarding the animosity between Beloch and Cervene.

If war comes to Beloch, I’m concerned for our safety if we remain in Rizy. I have taken the liberty of letting a house in the country until we know how this conflict will play out. I hope you are amenable.

I look forward to a bit of rest; the deliberations did not start well and were quite arduous. I think our girls would enjoy the serenity of a quieter life, too. Give Roza a hug and Vasi a kiss for me. I can’t wait to see my girls.

With affection,

Casimir

The date on the letter was three weeks ago. To travel from Skryty, the capital of Temavy, to Rizy should’ve only taken ten, maybe fourteen, days.

Vasi’s candle sputtered, and she whispered to the darkness, “Where are you, Papa?”

Fatigue fled as worry rushed in to take its place.

Something was amiss.