❈ invisible string ― nikolai lantsov ❈

Yizhi

The monk, Yuri Vedenen, flapped his arms like an overlarge bird trying to take flight, black sleeves billowing. "Tell your false priest to do what is right and recognize the Starless One as a Saint."

"I'll consider it," Nikolai said sagely. "But first I must ask that you join me for breakfast."

Yi felt her hunger surge, having only had a few spoons of yogurt this morning. A twinge of annoyance sparked within her upon realizing that this ridiculous boy was the reason she had missed what should have been a fulfilling meal.

"I will not be wooed! I will not be bribed!"

"Yes, but will you have tea or coffee?" Nikolai asked. A laugh rippled through the crowd, the tension in the air dispersing slightly.

The monk raised his hands as though calling to the skies. Yi blinked. "The Age of Saints has come! The signs appear from the permafrost to the Sikurzoi! Do you think I will be swayed by your glib words and friendly demeanor?"

Yi let the words leave her lips with little restraint. 

"Would you prefer us to torture you and instate fear so you abide to our commands? The very man you worship would certainly have no issue with removing a finger or two," she said pleasantly.

The monk stayed silent.

Nikolai gave Yi a sharp look before turning to the boy once more. He dismounted with practiced ease and approached the rock upon which the monk stood. "May I join you?"

The boy blinked, clearly unsure. "I. . . I suppose?"

Nikolai hauled himself onto the rock, flicking an invisible piece of lint from his shoulder. "I don't expect you to be bribed or swayed by my admittedly winning demeanor." He lowered his voice so that only Yi and Tamar could hear. "But you may be swayed by the sniper stationed behind that gentle knoll―do you see it? Excellent spot for picnicking―with orders to burst your head like a summer melon if I lift my right hand."

Nikolai's hand shifted and the young monk flinched, but the king simply straightened the lapel of his pristine coat.

"I would gladly be martyred―"

"You won't be martyred. . . Yuri, is it? You'll be a mistake. That bullet will graze my shoulder and I'll make sure to fall very dramatically to the ground. The shooter will confess to being an assassin who wished to murder the Lantsov king. Maybe he'll even say he was loyal to the cause of the Starless Saint."

"But that. . . that's preposterous," the monk, Yuri, stuttred.

"Is it more preposterous than the king of Ravka putting himself in the path of a sniper's bullet in order to rid the kingdom of an upstart monk? Because that, my friend, is quite a story." Nikolai extended his hand, looking completely indifferent. "Come to breakfast. My cook makes a marvelous pork loin."

"Or he can just cook you," Yi bit out.

Yuri evidently gulped. "I don't. . . I don't eat meat."

"No, of course not, you certainly can't expect to while you're in the easy oven, can you, now?"

The monk pursed his lips. "You lack formality."

"And you're wearing a black robe that smells like stale herring, let's not criticize in places we shouldn't," Yi said calmly as she adjusted the sleeves of her silks. 

She was already exasperated with everything about the situation, but for once she was grateful for the sarcasm and cynicism she'd learned from Zoya, the remarks she'd used to protect herself in the past three years.

"I rather like herring," Nikolai hummed, raising his eyebrows. "Unfortunately, this case of events has made my chef's preparation go to waste, and it does put me in a rather unpleasant mood."