TANGLED, genya safin

chapter ten.

"What happened back there?" Mal asked as soon as the servant departed. I shook out my knuckles again. "I lost my temper."

"That's not what I meant. What happened on the Fold." I studied a little pot of herbed butter, turning the dish in my hands. I saw him. "It was nothing," I said lightly.

"Alina used a lot of her power when we escaped the Nichevo'ya, and she never faltered. But she did in the fold." Mal said. "You both did."

"Is it the fetter?" Mal asked. "The fetter makes me stronger," I said, tugging the edge of my sleeve over the sea whip's scales. Besides, I'd been wearing it for weeks. "When we were fighting the volcra, did they sound different to you?" I asked.

"Different how?"

"More... human," Alina murmured. Mal frowned. "No, they sounded pretty much like they always do. Like monsters who want to eat us." He laid his hand on Alina's.

"What happened you two?"

I saw him. I stiffened. Alina looked away from Mal. "I told you: I lost my temper."

"Alina," Mal warned turning his gaze to hers. "Freya scared me— when she screamed. I thought something got her."

"Ooh really?" asked Sturmhond, steeping into the tent. Instantly we were on our feet, ready to fight. Sturmhond stopped short and lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. He'd changed into a dry uniform. A bruise was beginning to form on his cheek. Cautiously, he removed his sword and hung it on a post by the tent flap.

"I'm just here to talk to you," he said. "So talk," Mal retorted. "Who are you, and what are you playing at?"

"Nikolai Lantsov, but please don't make me recite my titles again. It's no fun for anybody, and the only important one is 'prince.'"

"And what about Sturmhond?" Alina asked. "I'm also Sturmhond, commander of the Volkvolny, scourge of the True Sea."

"Scourge?"

"Well, I'm vexing at the very least." I shook my head. "Impossible."

"Improbable."

"This is not the time to try to be entertaining." I hissed. "Please," he said in a conciliatory tone. "Sit. I don't know about you, but I find everything much more understandable when seated. Something about circulation, I suspect. Reclining is, of course, preferable, but I don't think we're on those kinds of terms yet."

We didn't budge. Mal crossed his arms.

"All right, well, I'm going to sit. I find playing the returning hero a most wearying task, and I'm positively worn out." He crossed to the table, poured himself a glass of kvas, and settled into a chair with a contented sigh. He took a sip and grimaced. "Awful stuff," he said. "Never could stomach it."

"Then order some brandy, your highness," I said irritably. "I'm sure they'll bring you all you want." His face brightened. "True enough. I suppose I could bathe in a tub of it. I may just."

Mal threw up his hands in exasperation and walked to the flap of the tent to look out at the camp. "You can't honestly expect us to believe any of this," Alina said.