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Tyr jumped up to go back to the stash and rifled until he found the letters that had been translated. He brought them back to the kitchen and slapped them onto the table next to the translated versions. He might not be able toreadVjestikaan, but he knew the letters, the patterns.
There was no way to tell what all the differences were, but he was absolutely certain about one thing: they were not the same letters. The translated ones were shorter, in snappier cadence than Zo’s usual flowery style. Even the voice was off.
They weren’t the same letters.
Tyr dragged his hands through his hair and then down his face. His secret benefactor had duped him. Perhaps the first translation had been wrong as well, but that made less sense than the cover-up done on the two new ones. What seemed more likely was that whoever had translated the letters had seen something they didn’t wanthimto see. But what?
He had no local friends, only acquaintances. Nessa was the exception, but she’d said the night he’d met her that she’d never learned much Vjestikaan either. But if it wasn’t someone close to him, it could only mean that whoever had been sneaking in and translating had a much darker motive than helpfulness.
But how did they know he had the letters?
And why didn’t they want him to know what they said?
“Fuck.Fuck.”
Tyr shoved back from the table and screamed into the crook of his elbow.
Chapter9
Seeing the Threads
“Nien.” Ana stormed to the other end of the long table toward her father. “Nien! Ota,where? Where is he? Where did you send him?”
“Calm yourself before I do it for you,” Magda said, carving delicate slices of boar’s meat.
“It’s not forever,” Arkhady said with the same blank expression as always, staring at the roaring hearth. “But Niko must learn to be a man before he can take a wife.”
“We don’t send our men away to learn to be men, Father,” Ana stated. She dropped to her knees before him, turning her back on Magda. “We’ve never sent our men away. This isherdoing! She wants to separate us, to separate all of us!”
“Arkhady, control your daughter.”
Arkhady sighed and closed his eyes. His head fell to the side. “Ana. Please don’t disrespect your stepmother. She’s done nothing but try to help this family.”
“Tell me where my brother is!”
“He will not,” Magda said firmly. She shoved her plate forward with a loud screech. “And now my appetite is spoiled.”
“Do you even require food like the rest of us,koldyna?”
“Ana!” Arkhady exclaimed with more fire than Ana had seen in him in years. “You bring shame to this family with such vile words. Apologize.”
Ana jumped to her feet. Her cheeks blazed with fiery anger and a boldness she knew she would regret later yet didn’t care. “I will never,everapologize to her, Ota. She hasn’t helped this family; she’s divided it. She’s taken you from me.” Her voice choked. “When I needed you most.” She wiped her eyes and blinked hard to expel the tears. “But you know, my appetite seems to be spoiled as well, so I’ll excuse myself, before I bring further shame to our family. Dobranok.”
Ana raced away from the dining hall, darting down the long hall toward the stairs at a pace she hadn’t commanded since she had been a girl. She didn’t stop when she reached the stairs and kept pushing until she made it to her room, then bolted the door behind her with a victorious pant.
“You’ve had a difficult day.”
Ana sounded a shrill scream. “Ludya! You nearly scared me half to death. And why is it I cannot even come to my room anymore without someone waiting to ambush me?”
“When have I ever ambushed you?” Ludya glided into the light. She wasn’t smiling, but Ana liked that about her vedhma. While others employed kindness for deceptions, benign and not, Ludya spared hers only for truly joyous moments. Reading her was as simple as paying close attention to her choice of words and gestures. “I heard about Niko. I’m truly bereft for you. His place is here.”
“It’sher.” Ana ground the words through a clench so hard, her teeth scraped.
“Tak. Of course it is. I told you the day she arrived she would cause great division in this household.” Ludya held out a steaming mug. Her dark hair was plaited with ribbons of gold, which glowed in the warm light of the candelabras, giving her an otherworldly air. Ana had never been certain of Ludya’s age, but she could have been fourteen or forty, and either would have made sense. “But you haven’t made it easier on yourself, Pjika. You feed her with your anger. Your fear. Starving her would be far more effective.”
Ana managed a grateful smile and took the mug to her favorite chair. She unlaced her boots and kicked them across the room, then pulled her achy legs up under her. “And how does one starve a creature that requires no sustenance?”
“None? You certain?” Ludya sat in the chair across from her. “Your anger blocks your cleverness. It represses you.”
