The Winds of Khalakovo Read Online Free Page A

no complications .”
    “My dear Nikandr,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “there already are.”
    Nikandr took in the crowd, wondering what she meant, but then he saw them. The three sisters. They were standing near the back, speaking with their Aunt Katerina. They wore billowing dresses, fur coats, and ermine caps, and though their tastes had grown apart in recent years, they were still dressed similarly enough to one another that a whole host of memories were dredged up from his childhood.
    Katerina and two of the sisters—Mileva and Ishkyna—were staring up at the ship, but Atiana, Nikandr’s fiancée, was staring at him. He stared back, uncomfortable under her gaze, and surprisingly, more than a little embarrassed. When they were young, he and Borund used to tease them mercilessly. Tying locks of their hair together at lessons. Stepping on the trains of their dresses. Dropping frogs into their soup when they weren’t looking. They were childish things that boys did to girls—nothing to be ashamed of when both of them had outgrown their youth—but Nikandr remembered, and he had come to regret them.
    He wondered if she felt the same. As they’d grown older, the sisters had become more and more vicious in their quest for revenge. Even after he and Borund had reached an age where they were looking well beyond the girls of Vostroma, they’d continued with renewed vigor, perhaps sensing the remaining time for balancing the scales was growing short. Once, at the beginning of Council, they’d put a dye in Nikandr’s food that had colored his mouth black for a week—teeth, tongue, gums, and all. He still shivered at the thought of trying to painfully scrape the stuff off night after night, and though Zhabyn had reluctantly forced each of the girls to apologize, they hadn’t bothered to tell him that scraping would have little effect and that in time it would wear off on its own. All three of them had made a point of catching Nikandr’s eye and smiling—genuinely enough so that it wouldn’t be considered taunting were they to be caught doing it but wide enough so that it was clear they were salting the very wound they had inflicted.
    Without a word to the women near her, Atiana broke away and made a beeline toward him. She was now twenty years old—four years younger than Nikandr. The hair beneath her cap was powdered white, and she wore a subtle rouge upon her cheeks. They had always been pale-skinned, the sisters, and the rouge only served to draw attention to it, but he was surprised to see how much her face had filled in—her figure as well—since the last time he’d seen her three years before.
    As she approached, Victania squeezed Nikandr’s arm and made her way to the gangplank.
    “You were missed last night, My Lord Prince,” Atiana said. “This morning as well.”
    Her tone was self-righteous, and it grated. “Duty called, My Lady,” Nikandr said, bowing deeply, “but fortunately we find ourselves here.”
    “A pity I won’t be able to take the ship,” she said, glancing up at the masts.
    “There’s nothing that would interest you, I’m afraid. She’s as bare as they come.”
    Atiana raised one eyebrow. “Is that how you like them?”
    Nikandr paused. “Is there a man that does not?”
    A wry smile lit her face. “Perhaps you would grant me a tour.”
    “I wouldn’t dream of robbing Gravlos of the pleasure.”
    “But you worked on her, did you not? Is it not your right as well?”
    Nikandr waved at the ship offhandedly. “A ship is a ship.”
    She said nothing, and her face changed not at all, but she was weighing his words. She knew—knew how much he loved this ship. To speak of it in such a cavalier manner would speak volumes to someone like her, a woman who had always—despite what other faults she might have—been insufferably bright.
    “I suppose you’re right. There’s much to do over the next few days. I doubt we’ll see much of one another until the