❈ invisible string ― nikolai lantsov ❈

Yizhi

As much as she hated to admit it, while she was gone, she'd feared the worst. Was it that far from Nikolai to fall for someone as gorgeous as Zoya? She'd seen the two interact on occasion and sometimes wondered if the two might become something, although it had never happened.

The door clicked and opened, drawing Yi's attention towards Nikolai as he entered. Everyone simply stared at him for a few long moments. The mood was grim, and even the golden king himself seemed to fall under that blanket.

"He did this to you, didn't he?" Yuri finally asked from where he sat on the carpeted floor.

"Yes," Nikolai said curtly. He didn't look remotely disturbed, if only slightly less at ease than he usually was. Which wasn't saying much, considering his abundant amount of charisma, charm, and overall optimism.

He crossed the room in long strides, grabbing a bottle of brandy from the sideboards before plopping himself down into a chair and stretching his long legs before him. The firelight danced in shadows against the perfect planes of his face, and Yi found that sometimes her eyes wanted to linger on pure impulse.

"During the war," Nikolai began, tugging off his gloves, "I was captured by the Darkling. No doubt you've heard that I was tortured by your Starless Saint."

Yuri's gaze snapped towards the dark veins on Nikolai's hands. "Korol Rezni. King of Scars. I've heard the stories."

"And chalked them up to royal propaganda? A smear campaign against a fallen hero?"

Yuri coughed awkwardly. "Well―"

Yi shook her head, shrugging off her silk robe that she'd pulled on over her bloodied gown. "How is it that you worship a man who inflicts such pain and claim to understand his motives when you refuse to acknowledge his victims in any way?"

She needed to know. Was it easier, pretending it wasn't his burden to carry? She tossed her robe over one of the chairs, pushing away from the wall and walking closer to where Yuri sat. He looked uncertain.

"One is not a victim to be blessed by the Starless One," he stated plainly.

"Blessed," Yi repeated quietly. "Of course. Blessed." She shook her head once more. It was futile to try.

Yuri was blind because he wished to be, because he believed that seeing one thing meant that he'd seen it all. It was no longer a belief, but a choice. Not the way he'd been raised or taught, but the person he'd chosen to become.

She blew out a long breath and turned around, walking away and into one of the separate quarters attached to the one she'd been in moments before. It was a bathroom where she'd already lain out her nightgown. The walls were dark and the lanterns glowed like stars as she slid her gown down her body and replaced it with a pale cotton, flowy dress.

Its sleeves were thin, loose straps, and embroidered across the airy layers of its skirt were green falcons taking flight, wings spread in a vast, intertwining display. Yi fiddled with her curls for a few moments, looking at herself in the mirror.

She looked different. Maybe it was only aging that made her feel so, but she couldn't help but imagine something behind her plain golden eyes, a hardness that hadn't been there before. Was it heartbreak or loneliness that had prompted her to become this way? Why was it that she turned to spite and humor for comfort now? Why was she so saintsforsaken afraid of sentiment, of being vulnerable?

Now she didn't feel powerful.

She felt weaker than the little girl she'd been before, because she, at least, would have been able to let her walls fall, to laugh and humor Yuri's superstition with Nikolai, to soothe Zoya's spite.