CHAPTER THREE
Tsarina
Staring up at Balthazar, I flinch. “You just said you live alone.”
He stares back with emotionless eyes. “I do.”
Frowning, I pinch my lips. “But I thought I just heard.” My eyes flare. “Don’t tell me your place is haunted...” I trail off when the wail sounds again and I gawk at Balthazar who’s pretending like nothing’s going on. “Did you hear that?”
“I hear nothing.”
“But I could’ve sworn.”
“Tsarina...,” he says impatiently but I shake my head.
“It’s coming from upstairs.” I move toward the staircase. “Someone’s crying.”
“Tsarina!” Balthazar snaps behind me but I ignore him, determined to go to the bottom of this. I run up the steps, then down a dark hallway with tin soldiers along the wall and oil paintings in murky colors. Stopping, I raise my brows because I can’t tell where the sound came from when I hear it again and now I know.
It’s coming from the third floor and I race up another staircase, then stop as if I just ran into a wall. There are no rooms up here...only what looks like dungeons. My stomach recoils and I begin trembling. What is this? Is Balthazar keeping someone up here against their will?
“H...help me,” a voice pants and I choke down a cry when a pale hand shoots out from the dungeon farthest down the hall. “P...please...”
Clasping a hand over my mouth, I walk closer only to find a sad figure, dressed in rags cowering on the floor. His eyes flash when they meet mine and between his cracked lips, he gasps,
“Tsarina? Is that y...you?”
Going down to my knees in front of the cell, I gulp. “Petrush?” Old emotions flare in me and I don’t know how to deal with this. Petrush is Petrushia’s grandson. He used to bully me when I was a child and Balthazar would try fighting him off but Petrush was such a pest that it didn’t work. He harassed me pretty mercilessly and it was always up to Balthazar to dry my tears.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask and he croaks,
“Don’t know. I’m a good citizen. I stay out of trouble. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Wrapping my fingers around the bars, I ask, “Then why?”
Petrush shrugs. “I told you, I don’t know. One night I was peacefully sleeping when Balthazar yanked me out of my bed, dragged me across the forest and threw me in here. For what crime, I have no idea.”
Struggling to make sense of this, I say, “How long have you been in here?”
His watery eyes flare. “Years.”
“Years!” I gawk. “But...does Petrushia know?”
“She knows. She doesn’t care. Whatever the Tsar decides is right, is right. The whole village thinks so.”
There has to be a reason for this. Balthazar isn’t so hotheaded he’d punish a man for crimes he didn’t commit. That would be too cruel and I notice the ring in faded metal on Petrush’s finger. “Are you married?” I gasp.
“To grandmother’s goddaughter,” he nods. “We have two children together. I haven’t seen them in the longest time.”
I gasp again before growing determined. “Petrush, I’m going to get you out of here...”
“Think again, little traitor.”
Whipping my head around, I gawp when coming into contact with Balthazar’s stony expression. With his hands clasped behind his back, he stalks closer and Petrush withdraws farther into the cell.
“How fast you betray me. I give you free rains and first thing you do is fraternize with an enemy.” His eyes harden. “I don’t want you kneeling by his cell and I forbid you from speaking to him,” Balthazar sneers.
Rising, I yap, “What is the meaning of this?” I flare out with my hands. “Huh? Why the hell are you keeping him locked up here?”