The Destined and the Deathless

Part 4

Her restlessness grew as she became accustomed to his new presence in her life, when the excitement faded and routine replaced it. Ivan was a fast learner, in many things, and wanted nothing more than to please her, in their marriage bed and outside of it. His devotion and love overflowed.

Marya felt as though she was the center of the world, tethered between her lover and her spouse and her tsardom, able to enjoy all without having to choose.

But Marya was insatiable. It wasn't enough.

She grew bored.

And like an answer to her prayers, another foe rose again.

The invaders, from all those years prior, the ones who very nearly killed her, started raiding the southern territories again.

Marya felt her soul alight when her advisors gave her the reports, how she was sure her eyes shined, and Ivan looked at her and couldn't hide the fear in his, the furrow in his brows.

She started making her plans that very night.

They were testing her, of course. She was getting older, they had almost succeeded in killing her before, after all. Perhaps they thought her marriage was a sign of defeat and that it had softened her.

She itched to prove them wrong.

And she craved the way a battle could make her come alive, how flames filled her veins as she fought and killed across the fields.

Marya swept into her long-neglected war room to pour over the old maps. Dust billowed as she moved them around and set up the markers according to the reports. Then she set to work sharpening her sword and let herself be lost in the familiar motion while she thought, theorizing possible plans.

Eventually Ivan joined her in the war room but hovered inside the door without speaking.

"Don't lurk, Ivan," she spoke with her back to him, bristling as she felt his worried gaze on her neck.

He approached her back and wrapped his warm arms around her torso. She set her sword and the whetstone aside as she leaned back into his embrace. He lowered a kiss to her neck and then moved his mouth to her ear. "Don't go."

She stiffened at his words. "I must, Ivan."

"Don't leave me."

His tone irritated her. "I was their Warrior Queen, before I was injured. I must show them I still am."

"I have a bad feeling, Masha. I feel as though I am losing you if I let you leave."

Her anger rose at his words, fast and hot. She wanted to spin to face him, but she was trapped between his body and the table. Words dipped in venom sprung from her throat. "You let me do nothing, Ivan."

"You are my wife," he barked and pressed her into the table.

"You are my consort. I must do this."

"It's not as though you have to meet them in battle. You want to, Marya," his voice rose in anger, and in worry. "I can see the bloodlust in you already. You want to leave."

"What do you want from me, Ivan? A confession? Yes, I want to leave!" Her voice rose in response.

"Why?" He growled into her ear, pressed her more forcefully against the table, until the edge dug into her thighs. "What have I not given you?"

"You do not know me as well as we both thought, if you are asking me that question." She struggled against him. "You do not know me as I truly am, husband, and I fear you never will."