If Aleksei chose to accept my offer, I hoped he would find that when freed from the tyranny of mortal men, their ambitions, and the harsh strictures they sought to set upon the nature of love and pleasure, the love of God and his son Yeshua was as vast, generous, and all-encompassing as that of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, my infinite bear-goddess whose worship was so often met with incredulity.

But I wasn’t sure.

THIRTY-NINE

The following day, we arrived in Udinsk.

Although it wasn’t a very large city, it was bustling with traders and activity. I was glad to see it wasn’t all Vralians. There were Tatar faces here and there, trading sheep, cattle, and goats for furs and timber. Any sort of diversity made it easier to blend into the crowd, and their brown skin made the honey-colored hue of my own less noticeable.

There were vendors selling food-stuff along the wharf where we disembarked, leaving behind our taciturn fur-trappers. I wished to all the gods that Aleksei hadn’t spent our last coin on the passage. The smell of food-ground, seasoned meat grilled on a stick, cooked cabbage stew with dumplings floating in it-made my mouth water and my belly growl. Blessed Valentina had done her best, but it had been a long journey coming on the heels of three days’ worth of fasting, and we’d eaten the last of her bread and cheese yesterday.

I was starved for food, real food. I couldn’t help but eye the vendors’ fare longingly, breathing the savory aroma deep into my lungs.

“Moirin.” Aleksei cleared his throat. “You’re not exactly looking demure.”

“I’m hungry!” I said plaintively. “I’m hungry and tired, and I would like a hot meal, a bath, and a clean place to sleep.”

“I know, I know,” he said soothingly, jingling the bundle of chains. “Let’s find a place where you can call your magic safely, and I’ll look for a smith willing to pay good coin for silver.”

“No. Oh, no.” I shook my head. “No, I want to watch them melt. I need to see it done myself. I need to know for sure no one else will ever be forced to wear those chains.”

“Moirin, be reasonable!” he pleaded with me. “Once we’ve gotten rid of the chains, I won’t worry so much. Until we do, the less you show yourself, the less chance there is that word will get back to Riva.”

“You’re not all that inconspicuous yourself, my blue-eyed boy.” I pointed at the bundle. “Not peddling those.”

In the end, we struck a compromise. I would summon the twilight and accompany Aleksei cloaked in its concealment.

We found a narrow alley and ducked into it. Aleksei turned his back on me, shielding me from view, and I called the twilight. It was still a blessed relief to feel it settle over me, to watch the world turn soft and silvery.

“Moirin?” Aleksei turned around.

“Aye,” I said, willing him to hear me. I reached out and touched his hand. “I’m here.”

He shuddered. “Don’t do that, please. It’s unnerving. It feels like I’m being touched by some unholy spirit.”

“No, just me,” I murmured. “Lead on, my hero.”

There were three smithies in Udinsk, easily located by the smoke and clatter. The first smithy dealt only in weapons, horseshoes, tools, and the like, and sent us-or at least, Aleksei and my invisible self-on to the others.

The master smith at the second place gauged the chains with an appraising eye and asked questions. Too many questions. Aleksei flushed and stammered out the tale we had concocted about the chains being his wife’s dowry, an heirloom from her mother, who was freed from vile servitude in a D’Angeline pleasure-house. Even with my limited Vralian, I could tell he was doing a bad job of it. It wasn’t a very convincing tale, and my earnest Yeshuite scholar lied very, very badly.

“Aleksei,” I whispered in his ear, making him jump. “Not here. Let’s try the third smithy.”

He twitched and bit back a reply, stuffing the chains back in the makeshift satchel and bidding the second smith a curt farewell.

To my everlasting relief, the thick-set master smith at the last place was every bit as taciturn as our fur-trappers. He examined the chains, bit into a link to test the quality of the silver, and made a gruff offer.

Aleksei countered.

He didn’t haggle any better than he lied, but I was proud of him for making the effort. When he told the smith that he had promised his wife he wouldn’t leave until the chains had been rendered molten silver, the fellow merely nodded without a trace of curiosity and placed a crucible on the forge, ordering an apprentice to feed the forge and pump the bellows.

It was a tedious process, but I didn’t mind. It was worth it to see those bedamned chains destroyed.

While the crucible heated and Aleksei hovered nervously, I wandered the smithy unseen, examining a tray of wares on display. Some of the work was surprisingly lovely and delicate-brooches and necklaces set with gems. Amber, I thought, although it was hard to tell in the twilight. I glanced at the master smith with his bushy beard and thick, blunt fingers, wondering what inspired him to create such delicate beauty.

I touched his work lightly, thinking of Terre d’Ange and all the careless riches that had been bestowed on me there.

Of Jehanne, commissioning her former adversaries at Atelier Favrielle to make a sensuous gown and an elaborate headpiece with gilded branches and garnet berries for me to wear on the Longest Night.

Of how she had smiled and stroked my cheek. I’ve no objection to you looking as stunning as possible now that you’re mine, Moirin.

It made my heart ache, but it was a good memory, too. It had surprised and delighted me to find such an unexpected streak of generosity in Jehanne. On the Longest Night, she’d had living pine-trees brought in to decorate the great hall in the Palace; immense evergreen trees in huge pots, their tops reaching for the ceiling high overhead, releasing their fragrance into the hall, their branches hung about with sparkling glass icicles. No one had ever conceived of adorning the hall on that scale before. She had done it just to please me.

I looked across the smithy at Aleksei, the forge-light flickering over his features. I wondered if he could ever understand that it was a blessing, not a sin, to be graced with more than one love.

It could be complicated; of course it could be complicated. And it opened one up to the possibility of more pain and loss.

Still, it was a blessing I would never relinquish. Love, genuine love, was always a cause for joy.

At last the crucible reached the proper temperature, glowing bright silver in the twilight. The smith began feeding the chains into its maw, and I drifted over to observe the process, standing unseen at Aleksei’s shoulder and peering into the crucible. Slowly, slowly, the chains and shackles began to glow with heat, the perfect links softening, the cursed lines of each perfectly etched sigil and inscription beginning to blur.

It was profoundly satisfying.

Once or twice, Aleksei shifted restlessly, glancing around as though to ask if I were ready to leave, but I wasn’t content until those chains were altogether gone forever, reduced to a seething mass of molten silver. Then, and only then, did I whisper in his ear that I was ready to go.

Outside in the cool air, it was hard to contain my exhilaration. Those hateful chains were gone, gone, gone. Oh, I knew they could be forged anew, but for now, they were gone. Even if the Patriarch found me, he couldn’t bind my spirit. Those chains would buy my passage out of Vralia. I laughed and spun around Aleksei in circles as he led us back to the narrow alley where I could release the twilight safely.

He smiled wryly when I did. “You look positively giddy, Moirin.”