Later that night, I knocked on Aksana’s door. We had a wing built out over the water given over to us, and Aksana was in the suite at the end of the hallway, windows on every side.

She opened the door, still fully dressed, with a grim look on her face. “What is it, Yushka?”

“I heard Knyaz Artyom say if the rest of the knyazes don’t decide by tomorrow, he’s sending his men in without them.”

She nodded. “He said that. You shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he said that.”

“I want to go, too.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You want to go.”

“Yes! Isn’t it wrong that we’re just sitting here while our allies have been attacked and kidnapped? We have to do something. I know you agree with me.”

“Yes, you’ve heard me say as much over the past two days. Why, then, would you think I would send my nephew with Knyaz Artyom and Gorakino when he should go with Knyaz Aksana and Khorizova?”

“We’ll go, too?”

“I’m pleased you’re eager to fight. What I’m not glad to see is how quickly you’re ready to abandon your family and fight with another.”

“Abandon? I’m not abandoning anyone!”

“Of course you’re not, because I won’t let you. Dasha told me you were hunting with Aleksandr Artyomovich instead of Semchik. It’s good that you have learned to work with our allies; it’s good even if you feel close to them, if you consider them friends and are worried about them. Good! But I did not bring you into my family to have you abandon your cousins and go help some boy who has a family of his own to help him. Do I make myself clear, Iyu Aksanevich?”

I pursed my lips, but there wasn’t any getting around it. “Yes, Knyaz Aksana.”

“Good. There’s too much of Rakhta Ony in you, I think sometimes.” When I didn’t respond to that, she sighed. “Don’t worry, Yushechka. We’re going, one way or another. Maybe you can work on getting Semchik used to that idea.”

“Semchik doesn’t want to go?” He hadn’t said anything like that to me, but he hadn’t been confiding in me much lately. Maybe Aksana and Dasha were right. I needed to keep closer to him.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, leaning in the doorframe. “He’s being quiet.”

“He’s always been quiet.”

“Yes, and I was hoping Gorakino would make him more confident. Have his own opinions.”

“It has!” I said. “I think so. He’s been a lot pushier with me, anyway.”

“Is that so?” A corner of her mouth curled up. “You know, I always said if I only had a son as dutiful as Semchik and as confident as you.”

“You have Dasha.”

“And don’t let her hear you say it.” She shook her finger at me. “Now, get out of here. Go talk to your cousins; see how Semchik’s feeling for me.”

Seeing this as an opportunity to prove my loyalty to my family, I went straight to Semchik’s room.

He, like a good boy, had been getting ready for bed and came to the door with just his shirt and pants on and his hair down. “What is it?” he said, looking exhausted, as though we hadn’t had the exact same day sitting around doing nothing but listening to old people bicker.

“I just wanted to come talk to you,” I said, slipping past him and making myself comfortable at the foot of his bed. “See what you were up to.”

“I just want to get some sleep and not think about anything,” he said. He paused in the doorway, and at first, I was worried he wouldn’t talk to me. He seemed to be considering tossing me out, but then he flopped down on the bed behind me.

“I know what you mean,” I said.

He snorted derisively into the mattress.

“We’re gonna go tomorrow,” I said.

“I know. My mother isn’t a patient woman.”

“Patient? What do you want to wait for? You don’t want to go? You’re friends with Filipp Artyomovich now; don’t you want to help him?”

“Don’t be petty, Yushka. Of course I want to help. But maybe we don’t know the best way to help yet. Maybe charging in, murdering everyone in sight, and leaving isn’t always the best thing to do.”

I scoffed, ruffling his hair. “What else is there to do? They’ve kidnapped Yelena Artyomovich. We can’t just ask for her back nicely and let bygones be bygones.”

“No, of course not.” he buried his face in the sheets, sounding miserable. After a moment, he turned his head and cracked his eye. “Do you remember Katenka? Yekaterina Davidovna? My old nanny?”

I squinted. “Maybe a little. Why?”

“I think she went back to her village soon after you came. I was getting too old for a nanny, and she wasn’t a volshebnik, so she couldn’t teach me all the things I needed to know. Of course she wasn’t a volshebnik; she came from a little fishing village down the coast; she only came to work at Whitecap Palace because her brother worked in the stables from the time our grandfather was knyaz.”

“Why are you telling me about your nanny?” I said, unable to keep myself from grinning. This was the Semchik I knew.

“I’m getting to it, okay? Katenka was a miryanin, and when I was little, I didn’t get that. I didn’t know some people couldn’t use myortva, and maybe Katenka talked about her family too much. I know Mama chastised her for it at least once or twice, said I didn’t need to hear about all her family problems, but I didn’t mind. She’d tell me about some village gangs hassling her cousin or her son breaking his leg and not being able to work. And I said, well, why didn’t her cousin fight back? Why didn’t her son just get his leg fixed? And she had to explain to me that not everyone knows magic. She called it magic.”

“You know, our magic isn’t the only kind of magic. My mother knew magic, just not our kind.”

“Yeah, miryanins can learn low magic, maybe. But the point is, they can’t use myortva. They can’t do all the things we can do. If someone’s harassing them, they can’t just blast them with myortva and be done with it. If they’re small and weak, they’re just small and weak, and everyone takes advantage of them, and there’s nothing they can do about it.”

“There’s volshebnik patrols,” I said halfheartedly.

“Sure. Maybe they can find someone to help. But they can’t help themselves. Imagine how you’d feel if you couldn’t help yourself.”

“I don’t have to imagine,” I said. “That was the first eight years of my life. I hated it. I wouldn’t go back for anything. I still don’t see what this has to do with what’s going on in Veliko.”

“If you’ll listen, I’m trying to explain it to you.”

It was at that point I remembered I had a flask tucked in my belt.

“Okay, anyway. When you don’t have magic, you have to rely on people who do. Whether it’s volshebnik patrols or the knyaz wherever you live. I can see why people get… frustrated.” He frowned, bringing a pillow to his chest.

“Is that what you think this is about? The miryanins not being able to use myortva?” I passed him the flask.

“Well, maybe. Kind of. It’s about power, isn’t it? If they’re rebelling, what else could it be about?”

“They want the power we have.”

“Right. The power Knyaz Fadej has, anyway. Or some of it.”

“So, what? You think we should just let them have it?”

“No, and even if I did, you know that’s not possible. Now that they’ve kidnapped Yelena Artyomovich, something has to be done. But maybe I just wonder if, before it got to that, we—Knyaz Fadej—could have done something so they wouldn’t feel so powerless.”

“Like what? Do you think he wasn’t taking care of his people?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard what they have to say.”

He handed the flask back to me. I took a pull and thought for a minute. “Have you ever wondered why it’s only the families who know how to use myortva?”

“It’s hereditary. It’s been passed down since before we came from the Sundered Lands.” Semchik shrugged. “What, do you think everyone should be a volshebnik?”

“Then Katenka’s family could have handled those gangs harassing them.”

“Then the gangs would have myortva, too, and every little fight would end up with people dead. People taking myortva from dead humans. No way we could stop that if everyone had it.”

“Now you’re against it?”

He groaned and threw himself back on the bed. “I don’t know, Iyu. I wasn’t saying anything, I was just thinking it’s sad we’ve got to go kill a bunch of people who don’t even stand a chance. The people we’re supposed to protect, you know?”

“Yeah. But Semchik, these people aren’t like Katenka’s family. Probably. I didn’t know Katenka’s family, but they probably didn’t go around kidnapping knyazes’ nieces. You’re right. We should do a better job taking care of people who can’t take care of themselves. That’s what we’re here for, right? That’s what people pay taxes for. But we also have to take care of our own, and we can’t let people get away with hurting one of us.” I put my hand on his knee. “If it were me they kidnapped—or maybe that’s a bad example; you’re still mad at me—if it were Dasha they kidnapped, you’d wanna go after them right away, right?”

He laughed, digging his knuckles into his eyes. “I’d come after you, too, Yusha.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Listen, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you back in Gorakino. It was just—”

“I know. You wanted to help. Did you?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

“I’m sure when we go to Veliko, you won’t embarrass us.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence. Does that mean you’re okay with it? You get why we’re going?”

“Yeah, I get why we’re going. You can tell Mama I’m not gonna be sulky about it.”

“I didn’t come to talk to you just cause Mamushka told me to.”

“Okay, Iyu. I forgive you, and I’ll go tomorrow and won’t make a fuss. All right?”

I flopped down next to him. “But do you really mean it?” I said, tugging on a lock of his hair.

He batted at my hand. “Stop it. Go away and let me sleep or I’ll unforgive you.”

“Okay.” I leaned in and pressed a sloppy kiss on his temple, then jumped up and fled as he threw a pillow at my retreating back. Once he’d run out of ammunition, I poked my head back in the door. “Good night, Semchik, I love you!”