Aleksey's Kingdom (A Royal Affair #2)(50)

Again, the dilemma almost tore me apart. I did not want either of them on that island with me, but equally I did not want them left with my horses. It seemed the safest option to have me at their mercy and not my defenseless horses. I have made apology to Xavier and Boudica for this thought since our return. Upon reflection, it is the surest sign of the madness that had gripped me on that journey: the idea of either of them being defenseless is ludicrous. I had watched Xavier kill men with one blow of his hoof, and if he had not killed them outright, he trampled upon them until they were surely dead. But the boy had risen to a disproportionate size in my mind by this time. I was no longer seeing him as a child at all, as my conversation with Aleksey on the shore indicates. I needed to know what he was doing at all times, watched him, and felt him watching me. We were linked somehow. I was diminishing, and he was rising. Unless you have experienced this, you will not understand how that affects a man.

The crossing was decided.

A little way from the spot we had first spied, Jacob Wright found short pieces of rope knotted into a tree. This is how the colonists had crossed. Why they had gone over, we did not yet know, but where was now certain. It did not look a propitious site to us, worse than the one found that morning with the rocks, but then the reason for the selection of that place became clear. The sun shifted behind a cloud, and in the shadow and reduced glare, we could all see that this part of the river had even bigger rocks, only they were submerged by a few inches and therefore less obvious.

They almost formed stepping-stones and were very broad and flat, and had this been an ordinary river a man could easily have hopped from one to the other and made it to the island with nothing more than wet boots. But this was not a run-of-the-mill river. As I have said, the water flew past us faster than a horse can run at its most desperate extent. I could not believe the power of it even now, and I had been staring morosely at it for some time.

Major Parkinson even put a boot into the edge to see if he could step to the first submerged rock, and his leg was whipped away as if on an invisible string. He toppled, and it was only the quick reaction of his captain pulling him back that saved him from a soaking and possibly worse. The thought of falling into that water and being… well, the thought was too much for me to complete, so I let it go. I was trying desperately not to acknowledge that I was going to have to cross this body of water. My fist was squeezed so tight I’m surprised I did not have a seizure there and then on the beach. Had I thought, I might have faked one. I was that desperate.

The only option for the crossing, therefore, was to play a rope across the rocks, which could act as a handrail—Aleksey suggested two ropes so we could have one under each armpit, and everyone but me thought that was an excellent idea. I thought turning around and going home was an even better idea, but no one was listening to me because I was talking only in my head. You will notice that the corps of engineers’ officer’s idea of using the cart had been totally rejected. No one was floating on that river, ropes or not.

The problem was clear to all. Who was going to cross first—and how—to tie the ropes to the other side?

It wasn’t going to be me. I’d tell them that for free.

It was going to be Aleksey.

He volunteered.

After me, he was the tallest and strongest of the group. Far stronger and fitter than any of the officers (Mary Wright was fitter than Major Parkinson), and he was far more intelligent and capable than all of them. Also, he wanted to do it. He was a king, a general: he led from the front. I had never seen him once in the war give an order to a soldier to do something he was not willing to do himself or could not have done himself. I should have known he would volunteer to do this.

And, of course, I could not let him, could I?

Who did I value more, Aleksey or myself?

I took the end of the rope from him. I was so much stronger than he was it was like Aleksey taking over from the major. I rarely showed him my strength, rarely had to, but it could not have escaped his notice that almost all the work we had to do to stay alive I did, and I did it all so easily compared to him. I could outride him, outrun him, outswim him. I had been reared by warriors, honed by adversity, and he had not.

But he would not relinquish the rope.

We moved a little to one side.

When it came to battles of will we were far more evenly matched. He had the advantage of wits and tongue over me. He thought quicker and spoke more fluently in defense of his cause than I ever could. But then I could use silence more effectively, and I was older and in many ways the one who made most of the decisions—it was my country, my way of life, after all. He was used to acquiescing to me because he had no particular reason not to.

“Give it to me.”

“No.”

“Aleksey—”

“Don’t Aleksey me. We are not deciding who gets the hot water to shave first. You are not well, Niko. You know that you are not. You are hot, sweating, rambling, being sick, shaking—”

I had not thought I was actually that bad, but hearing this recitation made me feel worse. Then I got what he was trying to do and straightened.

“Do you remember the ship and the cure you found for me there?”

His eyes widened. “You are not going to fuck me now, Nikolai!”

“No, stupid child, not that, but you said that facing a fear, trying to do it a little bit at a time, might help overcome it.”

“Yes, I remember saying that distinctly, for you then replied you would not trust me to pare your toenails for fear I would cut your leg off or some rubbish.”