Filip’s hopes hadn’t changed all that much in the three years since he’d joined the Družina. He still wanted to return to Czech lands, become a watchmaker, have a family. He still wanted freedom, for himself, for his family, and for his people.
Nadia flitted into his thoughts. What would a marriage and an annulment do to his dreams? Maybe nothing. But what if there were no annulment? The thought was crazy, but that didn’t make it any less appealing. Could Nadia be happy with him, in Prague?
Filip glanced at Kral. “Whatever is decided at the congress, we need to ensure the safety of the civilians traveling with us.” Filip could dream of a future with Nadia all he liked, but it wouldn’t do him any good. Yet even if their marriage was only temporary, he had promised her protection, and he was honor-bound to keep his pledge.
Kral raised an eyebrow. “That’s not the first piece of advice I expected to hear from you.”
“You already know how I feel about disarmament. I don’t need to tell you again. And I’ve got a stake in the safety of civilians.”
Kral sat back. “What stake?”
“My wife.” He could call her that, couldn’t he, even if it was temporary?
“You’re married? When did this happen?”
“At Piryatin. I don’t know that you remember, but there was a woman there, running from the Bolsheviks because her father served the tsar a little too faithfully. They killed her family, and she was seeking refuge.”
Kral grunted. “So sometime in the last two months, you found said refugee, wooed her, and married her? That’s quick work, Sedlák.”
“Not exactly. I married her. Now I’m trying to woo her.”
“That seems a little like firing your rifle before loading it.”
Filip chuckled but felt no mirth. “She was desperate. It didn’t seem right to let the Bolsheviks have her.” He was treading on dangerous ground now. Kral had been willing to leave Nadia to her enemies, and Filip didn’t want to tell Kral he’d been in the wrong. Besides, he understood Kral’s reasoning, even if he didn’t agree with it. They’d had only so many cars, only so much room.
“So you married her?”
“Yes. You said you’d only evacuate the legion and its families. She was neither unless she married one of us. Zeman offered to marry her first, but I didn’t think he’d make a good husband.”
“What?” Kral leaned forward. “That’s not what I meant. I would have found a place for her, after I made sure all my men and their families were taken care of.”
Filip hadn’t realized he was harboring resentment toward Kral until it suddenly dissipated. He hadn’t been merciless. He’d just been setting priorities. But a feeling of dread quickly replaced the vanished anger. “She didn’t have to get married to escape?”
“Of course not. I’d want some work from her, but I wouldn’t force her to marry a stranger.”
Filip took a deep breath. “So I forced her to marry me because of a misunderstanding?”
“Do you like being married to her?”
The bench was suddenly hard and squirm-inducing. “I’m not sure. I offered an annulment when she gets to where she wants to go.”
“Well, you can arrange the annulment the next time you see her. We’ll switch her to a boxcar for refugees, and she won’t be your problem anymore.” Kral chuckled.
Filip wanted to laugh, but he felt sick. He could get an annulment now and stop worrying about Nadia. So why did the thought of ending their marriage make him feel like he’d come down with influenza or some other painful disease?
“You want her off your hands, don’t you?”
Did he? She was beautiful, and she was trying so hard at a life that was completely foreign to her. He admired that, her adaptability, her tenacity. “I guess I hoped to win her over somewhere between Bakhmach and Vladivostok.”
“Then take my advice: don’t tell her about our conversation. She’s a lucky woman. Give her a chance to realize that, eh?”
Filip didn’t know what he would do; he still wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted. But Kral was wrong. There wasn’t any way a former Russian aristocrat would consider herself lucky to be married to a Czech corporal.
***
The Chelyabinsk depot was a mass of migrating soldiers the next morning as Filip and Dalek walked along the rails, exploring the station while Kral met with officers and officials.
“It looks . . . ramshackle.” Dalek gestured to the barracks beside the depot, probably used to house railway and telegraph workers. Beyond that were warehouses, a bathhouse, and a wooden church. “Except that.” Dalek pointed to the station. “That looks like it should be in Petrograd alongside one of your wife’s mansions.”
Filip smiled at the mention of Nadia. “She called Chelyabinsk the gateway to Siberia. Most of it’s been built since the Trans-Siberian Railway went through.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“Tell her what?”
“That she can accept the annulment immediately if she wants.”
Filip should have known his secret wouldn’t stay between him and Kral. “So you weren’t sleeping?”
“No. Are you going to tell her? Because I think you should wait.”
That wasn’t what he’d predicted from Dalek. He’d expected teasing or a threat to break the news when it was most inconvenient. “Why wait? Doesn’t make much difference, does it, if it’s annulled in Chelyabinsk or Omsk or Vladivostok?”
“As a single refugee, she’d be courted by half the legion. And we are a fine bunch, but Zeman might not be the only bad apple. She’s safer attached to a husband.”
Filip hadn’t considered that. Single women were vulnerable. And they still had all of Siberia to cross. The tsar and the provisional government had both fallen, so any safety they’d once offered along the vast stretch of rail was no more, and Soviet power didn’t project so far east. Even if their marriage were annulled, Filip would feel responsible for her, and she was easier to protect as his wife. But he didn’t want to lie to her.
“Besides, maybe with time, things will change.” Dalek’s eyebrow lifted playfully.
“She’ll want an annulment.”
“She doesn’t dislike you. That’s promising, isn’t it? Give it till we board the ships, at least. See what happens.”
“How can you tell she doesn’t dislike me?”
Dalek smirked. “She watches you when you aren’t looking. And she wants to please you. It’s either gratitude or something else. You should give it some time.” Dalek’s voice grew serious. “I suppose I want to believe that marriage between two strangers can work because I haven’t seen my wife in four years. We’ll be strangers if we’re ever reunited.”
“You were head over heels for Klára.”
Dalek nodded. “Yes, but one month of marriage and a handful of letters . . . it’s not enough. I barely remember her now. Anyway, Kral suggested I ingratiate myself with the local telegraph clerks.” Dalek pointed to the building they’d reached. “I’d best make a few new friends.” He ducked inside the building, leaving Filip to wonder about his friend and his friend’s wife and his own wife as he strolled the station. Should he tell Nadia the next time he saw her or wait and hope something changed?
A trainload of legionnaires had been shunted onto the railroad siding. He spoke with some of them and heard a familiar tale: slow progress, pressure to surrender weapons, new demands at each station they passed. Despite their frustration, morale seemed good. Once they got to France, they’d show the world how courageous the Czechs and Slovaks could be.
Nearby, heading west, was another train. It, too, was stopped as railway workers replenished water and wood. The first cars carried civilians, but the last three were full of released war prisoners. Curiosity drew Filip closer. A Hungarian folk song floated from one of the cars, and Hungarian insults were hurled from another, the one closest to the legion trains. Plenty of Czech insults flew back.