Chapter 120

I looked at her in amazement. Disbelief. I hadn’t prepared myself for this—though, to be fair, I hadn’t really prepared myself in any way when I came here. I’d let my puppy-dog feelings put me on a horse to the countryside, infatuated with two different women, with no real idea of how to talk to them or how to choose between them. As I stood before her, it dawned on me that maybe it hadn’t been my choice to make.

I stammered, “But you said… we had discussed…”

Katya rolled her eyes, frustration breaking through an expression that was otherwise concerned and sincere. “You northerners and your implications. We discussed an arrangement, Tiberius. We never made one. We shook no hands and signed no contracts. In the South, we don’t assume a deal is made until it’s made.”

I felt myself growing flustered, desperate. I spoke quickly, trying to blurt out my words before she could interrupt me. “But you said that if I became a Griidlord, that would give me real value to you, and, well… it’s just Lance and me now. The odds are pretty damn good that I’ll be the Sword of Boston tomorrow. Isn’t that what you wanted? To be the lady in the house of a Griidlord? To have little Griidlord babies and be important? That’s what you said! Even if there wasn’t an actual agreement, surely that’s still what you want—you said you wanted that.”

I could hear myself blathering, and I could see her expression shift. The frustration melted away, and even the concern had largely vanished. What replaced it was much worse: an expression of pity. My skin grew cold.

She shook her head slowly, smiling weakly. “Tiberius, I would be proud to be your wife, and you have proven all of that value now. I can’t imagine a world where you don’t win tomorrow. I’ll be there, cheering for you. The wedding at the castle is planned for the day after. Nobody wants the distraction of waiting for your crowning moment.”

I worked my jaw, racking my brain for something to say. She went on.

“But things changed, that’s all, Tiberius. I surprised myself, even. I thought I was more practical than this. If I wrote it down on paper, you’re the better offer. You’ll have everything I set out to attain: a handsome man, a rich man, a powerful man, and, mostly, a good man. But sometimes practicality has to give way.”

I nodded, trying to understand. Or thinking I understood. “There’s someone else,” I said.

Katya nodded.

“Is it… I mean, have you… is it formally decided? Maybe you could wait a while, give me a chance, think about things.”

Katya frowned. Even with all the turmoil in me, I couldn’t help but notice how cute her small face looked when she frowned like that.

“Tiberius…” she said softly. “I just said the wedding is in two days.”

I frowned. “Oh no, I thought you meant Lauren’s wedding.”

I think I fully understood before her expression explained it all to me. My stomach lurched as though I’d fallen from a great height, my mouth literally gaping open in shock. The craziest part was how obvious it should have been.

Katya reached out and touched my shoulder, smiling gently. “It’s Lauren’s wedding too.”

I looked down, shaking my head pathetically. I felt like such an utter fool. That feeling was stronger even than the undeserved sense of rejection gnawing at me.

“Oh, I didn’t... when?” I asked.

Katya shrugged. “Little by little. Neither of us had any intentions—or at least I didn’t. We both want to bear children, and that’s easier with a man. No need to mess around with other ways to get pregnant. No, I never set out for this. The Oakcrests aren’t even that well off. But there were moments, here and there, and after a while, I realized I wasn’t thinking about contracts and prospects anymore—I was thinking about her.”

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I said, “When you dove off the tower to save her, that was more than just heroism.”

Katya nodded slowly, watching my eyes.

“That’s why you’ve been traveling in the Oakcrest carriage, why you’ve been staying out here,” I said, more to myself than to her. Again, more nodding.

“Katya, I’m such a damned idiot... I never saw it.”

She smiled kindly. “It’s okay, Tiberius. Really, don’t fret. Tomorrow you’ll be, quite literally, the most eligible bachelor in Boston—maybe one of the most desirable men in the world. A Griidlord, a lord of a new house, rich as a king. In another world, I would’ve been only too happy to enter into an agreement with you.”

The feelings of regret settled more heavily on me, and I felt my emotions reacting. My eyes contracted. I needed to excuse myself.

“I need to go,” I said, turning slightly.

Katya seemed alarmed. “Tiberius, don’t…”

I moved away from her. “It’s not you—you didn’t do anything. The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. I’m happy for you and Lauren, I just... I just need to put my attention back on tomorrow’s fight. It’s a long ride back to the city, and I need to rest up. Thanks for... thanks for taking the time to talk to me.”

I moved to my horse and put a foot into the stirrup.

Katya asked, “Will you come to the wedding?”

I heaved myself into the saddle. “I can’t. My father is… I don’t know if you’ve heard, but he’s missing. The Horde attacked his caravan. If I win the suit tomorrow, I need to leave immediately for Dodge to search for him.”

Katya’s eyes widened in surprise. “Tiberius! I had no idea.”

I waved her concern away as I turned my horse toward the path. “Don’t worry about that now. Please extend my best wishes to Lauren, and my apologies to you both that I can’t be there.”

Before she could say more, I urged my horse into a canter, the beauty and peace of the orchard transforming into a tangled, untamed mess in my eyes.

***

Night. The darkness of my room did nothing to quiet the thoughts swirling in my mind. I needed to sleep—when I woke, I would be facing him, I would be winning the suit. Sleep was so desperately necessary, yet the awareness of this only strained my mind further, stretched too thin. My thoughts drifted to my father, to the way I had embarrassed myself with Katya, to the bitterness I couldn’t quite shake that both she and Lauren had made themselves unavailable to me.

When I closed my eyes, I saw Father’s head on a spike, or his proud form brought low, naked and cowering in some Horde cell. When I forced those images away, I was haunted by the sickening look of pity on Katya’s face. I swung my legs out of bed and stood up, not bothering to dress, moving to the door in only my underwear. I needed to clear my head—I needed sleep. It was vital.

I moved out into the hall. The house was quiet at this hour, except for the snores of a Pittsburgh warrior in one of the guest bedrooms. My father’s house had become a temporary barracks for the night, with the soldiers housed here in preparation for the expedition. The city was alive with visitors from far and wide, and accommodations were nearly impossible to find anywhere else.

I quietly descended the stairs, my mind a tempest. Sleep felt like a distant hope, and with every step, I was more aware of how far my life was from what I wanted. The question of my father loomed, an overwhelming worry that I could set aside for a few days—either with his rescue or the confirmation of his death. But the emptiness left by Katya and Lauren gnawed at me in ways I hadn’t fully realized until now.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, a wave of unquenchable sadness enveloped me, nearly staggering me. Here I was, hours from the end of the Choosing, and yet my life still felt so far from what I desired. The suit—it was everything, the thing I wanted most. I was this close to winning it. But what did it all mean? Beyond the suit, what was I supposed to be hoping for?

I moved into my father’s study, where another Pittsburgher snored, stretched out on the couch, oblivious to my quiet presence. I needed to banish this feeling, this heavy sadness, just as much as I needed to rid my mind of the foul images haunting me. I crossed the room to the cabinet, pulling a bottle from the shadows. I looked at it for a moment, feeling self-conscious about using alcohol as a crutch. My father’s life had revolved around drink for too long.

I found myself wishing the voice was here with me, to either encourage or scorn me—anything to distract from the loneliness. But the voice wasn’t here. No one was. There was no one in my life to lean on, no one to draw strength from. The strange sadness rose from my gut again, and with an urgent need to quiet it, I opened the bottle.

The overpowering smell of whiskey filled my nostrils as I brought the bottle to my lips and tipped it back.