The Novels of the Jaran by Kate Elliott Page B

were so insistent that Nadine and I travel the long path to Jeds, alone, need I add, where we might have encountered any danger, and in lands where you know very well how they treat women. We cannot even be sure we will ever see Dina again.”
    “Knowing Dina, we will undoubtedly receive an envoy from the Prince of Jeds himself requesting that we remove her before she destroys the entire city.”
    Sonia chuckled, despite herself. “That is very probably true. Don’t distract me. What I mean to say is, if you risked us, then whatever excuse you give Yuri about Tess not going because she is a woman is the most ridiculous nonsense I have ever heard.”
    “Do you suppose she can use a saber?”
    “I suppose she can learn, well enough to defend herself, at least. I do not expect her to become such a paragon of saber fighting as Vladimir, or yourself, dear cousin. And I will give her my own bow and arrows, since a woman can use them to protect herself without any shame. What is your real reason?”
    “I don’t trust her. There are great things in front of us, in front of our massed armies, if we can get so far. I must rid myself of those last few riders who don’t understand that we must unite, that the old ways no longer protect us. And I need those horses. What if she acts to harm the priest, to disrupt this journey, to ruin all the work I’ve done so far?”
    “Why should she care? She is a merchant’s sister, traveling home to Jeds. She says herself that it was a foolish impulse that led her to follow the priest off the ship, that she only meant to protect her brother’s trading rights.”
    “Do you believe this story?”
    “I trust Tess.”
    He did not reply immediately. “She lied to us once. She is not their interpreter. She’s still lying, Sonia.”
    “How can you know?”
    “I feel it in my gut.”
    “And you’re never wrong.” Sonia’s voice came cold and flat and sarcastic. “Never you. Never Bakhtiian. You never listen to anyone else.”
    “I would listen to others if they had anything worthwhile to say.”
    “If you’d listened to others, Natalia and Timofey and your parents would still be alive.”
    The tension was so palpable that Tess felt it as loudly as any words. Bakhtiian made a sound, like the beginning of speech, and then fell silent, as if he were so furious that he could not even talk. She took a step back, suddenly sure that her presence here would do Sonia no good if it were discovered.
    “Come out,” said Bakhtiian, as if her thoughts alone had alerted him.
    “Ilya—” Sonia began, protesting.
    “Whom are you protecting?” he snapped.
    Tess knew that however much she did not want to walk around the tent and see either of them, in such a mood, she could not leave Sonia to end this conversation alone.
    So she joined them. Sonia stood, hands drawn up into fists on either side of her waist, pale, facing Bakhtiian. He had heard the scuff on the grass and he turned; instantaneously took a step back away from Tess, surprised to see her. He froze, as though touched by some stilling hand.
    “Excuse me,” she said, and heard the betraying quaver in her voice. “I was looking for Sonia.”
    His gaze had the cutting edge of a knife. Tess tensed, knowing for that instant that he was about to say something so vicious that it could never be forgiven. Sonia moved, stepping toward Tess as if she meant to shield her.
    Bakhtiian caught his breath and whirled and strode away into the darkness.
    Distant voices rose to accompany some melody. Tess put her hands to her face. Against her cold palms, her cheeks felt flushed and hot. Sonia came over to her and grasped her wrists. A moment later, they were laughing and crying all at once.
    “Gods,” said Sonia at last, letting go of Tess. “It’s no wonder that there are men out riding just to kill him.”
    Tess brushed a wisp of grass from her lips. It was true enough what Bakhtiian had said, that she was lying. But how much could she tell