He watched her carefully—too carefully. “Do they know you are a…what are you calling this?”
“Galdra,” she breathed.
“Galdra? Do they know this, Saga?”
Her eyes met his, but she could only hold his gaze for a heartbeat before looking away. “They might now.”
Rurik’s hands slid around the small of her back, pulling her to him. He was so warm and solid, a reminder of resilience when she felt herself washing away. Dazed, she leaned in. Let him stroke her hair. Listened to his soft murmurs, soothing, though she did not understand them.
“Chto ty sdelala malen’kaya ptichka1,”he said. “You are in danger.” Saga did not reply, but his arms tightened. “You will come with me when I leave.”
Wrenching herself free, she started pacing. “I cannot, Rurik. I cannot leave this place.”
“I will help you,” he asserted. “Rovgolod has seeds for ocean sickness. You will take them and sleep, and I will steal you out.”
But Eisa, she wanted to scream. If Saga left, who would protect Eisa? Who would stop Signe? The room swirled, Ana’s bloodied corpse sagging on the pillar. Saga whirled away from Rurik, closing her eyes.
She would. Not. Cry.
“Look at me, Winterwing.” Gentle fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face upward. Saga stared up at Rurik. This unyielding man was used to getting what he wanted, and he wanted to steal her away. It was a tantalizing offer. And yet…
“I cannot leave,” Saga whispered. “It is more than my ailment. I must keep her safe.”
“Who?”
“My sister.”
“Yrsa?” asked Rurik.
Saga looked away.
“Not Yrsa.” Rurik was silent for a moment. “Which means it must be other one. Esa.”
“Eisa.” Saga swallowed. She felt disconnected from her body, from this entire conversation. Had she truly just told him that?
“Eisa,” Rurik repeated. “She is not dead, then.” He did not wait for an answer. “And you are helping her by…what? Reading queen’s letters? Sneaking through tunnels and hearing things you should not?” Rurik clicked his tongue, muttering something in Zagadkian. “You cannot help her if you are dead, Saga.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Because, of course, he was right.
“You are in danger if you stay,” said Rurik in a low voice. “And so you will leave.”
“But the treaty, Rurik?—”
He let out a dark chuckle, gazing at her with predatory green eyes. “Here is another secret, Saga.” He leaned closer. “I do not care about treaty.”
Saga’s brows furrowed. “What?”
Rurik shrugged, a maddeningly casual gesture. “I’m afraid I cannot say more.”
Saga watched him suspiciously. The man was an irritating enigma. She could not allow herself to forget—Rurik knew Saga’s most damning secrets, while still she knew little of his.
“I will help your sister if you wish it,” Rurik said casually. “Tell me, Winterwing. What must be done?”
“I don’t trust you,” she hissed.
A slow smile slid across his face. “You are not in position to choose. Is myself or Urkans.”
Gods, but she hated that he was right. Ana was gone. Signe knew of Saga’s scheming. Any minute now, her world could crash in on her. And Rurik was right—Saga would be no help to Eisa or her kingdom if she were killed or locked away.
