Jane felt like she had been punched in the stomach. "Sorry," she said. "Can we back up a step. We are talking about Nikolay, as in the Nikolay who brought me here a few minutes ago? You mean that Nikolay? He's your son?"

Tsar Fyodor arched an eyebrow.

Jane sucked in a breath.

"Not... that there's anything wrong with that. He's a—you both seem like—Well, you guys don't look much alike, that's all."

The tsar was still looking at her. Not just looking, but looking, a piercing, unnerving stare that seemed to bisect Jane with its intensity. As she tried to meet his eyes, Jane could begin to imagine how he and Nikolay might be related after all. "What's wrong with Nikolay?" she asked, in a much smaller voice than before.

"I am dying," said the tsar bluntly.

Jane swallowed. "I'm sorry to—"

"Nikolay, unfortunately, is bound to me by an Oath-spell he took in childhood to protect me from all harm. If I die, he will die along with me, due to his failure to fulfill the terms of the Oath."

"Well, that doesn't seem like it was very well thought out. Is there nothing that can save him?"

"The Oath was a blood Oath."

"You'll have to explain what that –"

"It means that it was sealed in blood, and that it cannot be broken, short of interference from a higher power... or both our deaths."

Jane frowned at him. "So, you're telling me that the two of you bound your lives together, despite the fact that you were obviously very different ages, and you never expected there might be problems with this?"

She heard a muffled cough and saw Kuzma, the tsar's page boy, watching her with unmitigated horror as he shuffled back into the room. Jane realized she'd essentially told the tsar he was an idiot to his face. Oops. But it felt good to speak her mind. Like most of the U.S., Jane was fed up with leaders in high places who didn't think before they acted.

At least the tsar had the decency to look remorseful. "It was a terrible thing," he said quietly. "Nikolay was much too young to take an Oath of such magnitude. It should never have happened." Jane wondered what he was not telling her - how it had come about, how Nikolay had been coerced into taking on such a spell. She thought about asking, but there was a finality to the tsar's tone that told her more information was likely not forthcoming.

She frowned at her hands. "These... Writings in the Book of Truths sound immensely powerful. Not to be rude, but... morally and ethically, aren't I supposed to help as many people as possible, instead of just one person?"

"You will be saving many lives by bringing peace to Somita. Hopefully more than enough lives to satisfy your moral and ethical quotas." He folded his hands, leaning closer. "Anyway, we speak in hypotheticals. You have not even begun training for your godstests yet. The tests can be... harsh. Who knows what the next months will bring?"

He looked at her again, and Jane felt suddenly uneasy. True, he needed her, but she needed his protection just as much, perhaps even more...

"So," said the tsar, "In exchange for your agreement—"

Excuse me? I haven't agreed to anything yet!

" –you will receive the finest in preparation for the godstests. My younger son Kir will teach you swordfighting, and Commander Olesya of the King's Riders will teach you hand-to-hand combat. Nikolay and my personal healer, Casimir, will teach you battle magic and healing spells."

Swordfighting! Battle magic! Jane's heart sank further. She had been hoping for something a lot more traditionally pencil and paper. "You've given me a lot to consider, Your Highness," she said. "I'm a bit overwhelmed. Perhaps I could give you my answer in the morning?"

He inclined his head. "Of course," he said. "The gods command that the Writings are yours, to do with as you will."

Jane nodded, and the tsar beckoned Kuzma to show her out. Jane knew a dismissal when she saw one. As she got to the doorway, the tsar said:

"Nikolay told me he saved your life on the road. I hope that will factor into your decision."

The door closed behind her.

Jane let out a long breath, bracing herself against the wall. That had been even weirder than she'd expected.

Kuzma stared at her nervously. "Do you need me to escort you back to your rooms, Miss?"

"No," said Jane. "No, I'll try to get back on my own this time, thanks."

So many thoughts churned in her head that it was a struggle to sift through them. She was starting to suspect she was being manipulated, and it was like a slow, caustic burn at the back of her mind.

Nikolay probably knew his dear dad would be having this talk with her. He would have known before her attack, before he had even arrived at that temple to pick her up.

But the attack, the attack couldn't have been planned by Nikolay.

Or could it?

Jane didn't know how easy it was to hire mercenaries here, but if you were the son of a tsar, it couldn't be that hard to hire some, and get some sort of blue clothing, fake Kanachskiy armor, to dress your mercenaries up in.

Or maybe Nikolay hadn't directly planned the attack. Maybe he'd just purposefully taken her on a more dangerous route in the hopes that he would look the hero.

Jane slowed.

She remembered Nikolay arguing with Olesya the day of the attack. Persuading the commander to take the riskier route.

Fishy.

Decidedly fishy.

But Jane needed the tsar's help. Staying focused on the godstests was her top priority. If that meant Nikolay would get one of her—what had the tsar called them? Writings?—then so be it. It wouldn't actually matter what happened in Somita once she was home...

It took her a very long time to fall asleep. When she finally drifted off, her dreams were filled with writhing smoke monsters and evil gods. The sudok had her sister Sandra and her Uncle Bauer in captivity and were threatening them with dark magic. Then her older brother Phillip was there—but you can't be here, you're dead!—and he was helping Jane fight them off, but he was losing too, he was falling, there was an arrow in his side and suddenly Sorcerer Nikolay was standing over them all, sneering (Ought I to give these scum what they deserve?) and then a pallor had fallen upon his face, and black was seeping over him, and he was dying too—

Jane woke. The sky was a bit lighter than last time, though barely. The pre-dawn chatter of birds seeped through her window. For a moment, Jane thought her nightmare had woken her.

Then she heard a knock at her door.

Jane whimpered. It had to be five in the morning. She tried to cover her ears with a pillow. But the knocking persisted, growing steadily louder and more frantic in its tenor, until at last, with a groan, Jane got up. Perhaps the castle was on fire. Perhaps—

"Rise and shine, dear Avtorka!"

...Perhaps Prince Kir was the most obnoxious man who'd ever lived.

The over-eager puppy resemblance was especially strong this morning as Kir beamed at her, fully-dressed in loose pants and a tunic. Jane, who had ignored the nightgown the servants had offered her in favor of her familiar t-shirt and sweats, was suddenly aware of her lack of a bra. "Are you ready for fun?" Kir exclaimed.

"Not really." Jane backed up a wary step in case he tried to kiss her again. "What's going on?"

"The tsar has decreed that your training for the godstests will begin today. You, my dear Jane, are about to become the finest of lady warriors."

So much for giving her an extra day to decide if she'd accept his offer. Jane felt her esteem for the tsar of Somita dip another notch. But her desire to succeed at her godstests and get off this planet was strong enough that she allowed Kir to help her locate suitable workout garments and lead her out to the training grounds, where Kir put her to doing laps around the field.

It was worse than she'd feared. After the second lap, the air began to chafe in her lungs. Her heart thudded like an unbalanced washing machine, her side was afire with cramp, and her breath came in hot, rasping gasps like the dying wheezes of an asphyxiating donkey.

Kir watched her lack of progress with apparent bemusement. "Women do not train on Earth?"

"A—huff —a lot of us work out, but—gasp—it's been a busy semester, and—" Ow, ow, ow, that was a really bad stitch in her side, she hurt all over...

"In Somita," Kir said proudly, "all women are encouraged to train in the basics of combat. Men and women are both ready to fight for our country. We're a lot more advanced than Kanach, where women are treated as slaves."

Great. So everyone in Somita was in better shape than she was.

As if it wasn't bad enough, Jane's lack of fitness didn't seem to be making Kir any less amorously inclined toward her. On the contrary, his expression as he watched her stop and catch her breath for the fifth time was alarmingly soft.

Shoot me now, thought Jane. Perhaps, if he made her run anymore, she would throw up on his boots. That might at least end the problem of his unwanted attentions.

She thought she might get at least a bit of a break when the clock struck the hour. But as Kir strode away merrily to start some drills of his own, Commander Olesya strode out onto the field and made a beeline for her.

The commander had abandoned the headscarf and daggers today. Her hair was secured in long braids which coiled around her head like snakes. Even unadorned, she had a frigid, distant beauty. Unsmiling, she offered Jane a hand. As Jane reached up to take it, she noticed a peculiar, twisting scar, which ran the length of Olesya's forearm.

Olesya noticed her noticing. Her lips pursed. "That was courtesy of the Kanachskiy. I assume you would like to avoid getting one of your own... so. Shall we begin?"

Jane blushed. Olesya speared Jane with a cool, no-nonsense look that made Jane feel inexplicably guilty. She had the sudden, uneasy sense that the commander would rather be anywhere but here, training a beginner with no idea how to fight.

"Let's see what you know," the commander snapped. "Assume a basic fighting stance."

"Excuse me?"

A muscle twitched in Olesya's cheek. "Very well," she said frigidly. "I suppose we shall have to start with the very basics. Stand like I am, with your feet slightly apart..."

By the time the sun was starting to creep over the horizon, Jane was on the verge of tears. It did not help that as she was leaving, Olesya remarked to Kir, just loud enough to be overheard, "We are at war. The fate of Somita rests in our hands. And the tsar wants me to train our newest Avtorka, who has barely any skills at all...? Perhaps if the tsar put less stock in fantasies and more in actually fighting the war, we wouldn't be in this situation. Perhaps you might have a word with your father..."

Jane did not stay to hear the rest, but hurried away—as fast as she could hurry with her aching muscles. Curse everything! she thought. This entire world seemed to operate under the assumption that the most important thing was brawn. Why couldn't she have fallen into a world that valued brains and intellect? Jane didn't understand why people put such stock in being bigger, stronger, and faster than everyone else. It was so unfair.

Delicious smells and the sounds of chatter led her to a mess hall. Jane, ravenous, fell upon her breakfast with a voracity rivaled by starved hyenas. The food was a grainy porridge similar to the one served by the temple woman. Kasha, the servers called it. She had finished her third helping and begun thinking half-heartedly about starting some practice drills when a shadow fell across her plate.

"Enjoying yourself?" said Nikolay.

Jane frowned. The only doors to the room were in plain view, and she was sure she would have noticed Nikolay's entrance.

Just what were the extent of his powers?

"And where have you been since I saw you last?" she asked, spooning a fourth defiant dollop of kasha into her bowl. "Off torturing that Kanachskiy soldier we captured?"

"Oh, I wasn't torturing him," he said lightly. "Not in the traditional sense, anyway. There are so many other appalling things you can do to a person that don't involve physical torture."

"Psychological torture is even worse. It's a terrible thing to do to someone."

He inclined his head, unapologetic, perhaps even amused. "Are you done with your meal yet, avtorka? Your next lesson awaits you."

"With you?"

"Believe me, I'm as delighted as you are." The next second, Jane felt herself yanked forcibly from her chair. It was like a hook had speared right through her navel. She yelped.

Nikolay stared down at her unsympathetically. "Let's hope you take to magic faster than you take to single combat," he said with cool malice. "I don't appreciate being saddled with slow learners."

He started towards the door. Faced with the inexorable tug of Nikolay's power at her midsection, Jane had no choice but to follow.

-v-

Oh no! Will Jane survive her first real magic lesson? Tune in next week to find out!

Thanks so much for your continued support of this story! Especial thanks to DomiSotto for her insightful comments. You rock!