Citadels of Fire

  Chapter 20

  The next morning, Taras asked Anatoly to wake him with the sun. He had to meet the Master of the Horse at midmorning, which meant little time to see the tsar before reporting to the practice yard.

  He’d hoped to be the first in line for an audience, but half a dozen others arrived first. He waited, but it took longer than expected. He fought the urge to tap his foot. He didn’t want to be late to his first day of training.

  Finally, his turn came and the herald announced him. He walked forward, much more confidant this time, and went to one knee. The tsar smiled broadly.

  “Ah, Master Taras. Please rise. You have only been with us a few days and you return. How is our court treating you?”

  “As you say, Your Highness, it has only been a few days. But everything has been more than satisfactory so far.”

  “Wonderful. And what do you ask of us today?”

  “My Gracious Lord, my eye has fallen on a woman.”

  The tsar nodded vigorously. “Of course it has. Why shouldn’t it? Tell us, who is she? The daughter of one of these fine courtly families?” He swept his arm out to include all the boyars sitting on their respective benches. Taras felt them all lean forward, eager to see whom he would name.

  “No, Your Highness. I have neither wealth nor position to offer any of these fine families. Yet. No, she is a serving maid. She works in the royal kitchens. I was unsure of the etiquette in such a situation, so I thought I ought to ask you first.”

  Ivan nodded his approval. “With a mere servant, you can approach the lady. If she is willing, you have my blessing. If not, we can decree an order for her to be brought to you.”

  “I see, my Lord.”

  “We are glad to see you erring on the side of prudence, young Taras. We will give the order in case she refuses. Then, if she is willing, we need not enforce it.”

  “Thank you, my Lord.”

  Ivan leaned over to the clerk at his side. “See that—what did you say her name was?”

  “Inga, my Lord.”

  The tsar leaned over to the clerk again. Before he could speak, a cry of outrage came from Taras’s left. Sergei sat near the tsar’s dais with his father. He jumped to his feet upon hearing Inga’s name and shouted, “But Your Grace!”

  The tsar's eyebrows rose in surprise. Taras hadn't thought to look for Sergei in the hall. He wondered if Sergei already made his request. If he had, surely the tsar would have started upon hearing Inga’s name.

  “You have something to say, Sergei?”

  “My lord,” Sergei sputtered, “My eye has also fallen on this woman. I came to ask for her myself today.”

  The tsar arched an eyebrow, looking between the two men. “She must be some woman, to capture both of you in the same day.” Taras held his breath, hoping the tsar did not see guilt or conspiracy in his countenance.

  It was not a swift decision. The tsar considered for long minutes. What if Inga was wrong and he gave her to Sergei instead of Taras? What would she do then?

  The tsar smiled at Sergei. Taras hoped his dismay did not show on his face.

  “Sergei, Lord Taras is one of our newest friends, and we want to make him as comfortable as possible. Your bed has never wanted for women, and the lack of this one now will not change that. Find another.”

  Taras suppressed a sigh of relief, and barely kept a straight face when the tsar turned to him and said, “She is yours, Lord Taras.”

  Taras bowed from the waist. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  “Has the Master of the Horse ranked you in my army, yet?”

  “No, Your Grace. I am on my way to meet him now.”

  “Then don’t let us keep you.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Taras bowed again and backed away. As he neared the back of the room, he risked a glance at Sergei, who glared at him as he retreated. Taras hated feeling like he was the one retreating, so he affected a small victory smile after checking to make sure Ivan wasn’t looking. Sergei glared harder, and Taras swept gracefully out the door.