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It was an easy answer: "No. I am not afraid."

Once upon a time, things had been different. Once upon a time, he had screamed like a rabbit from pain and shied away from the slightest of Touches and buried himself in the idea of being no more than an instrument to be used.

The last part was still a truth, but it was not the entirety of Kostya's life. There was a future looming, its presence a reminder that he is more than just the pieces that make up a human being.

"It make me vary. Suspicious. But not afraid."

"Hope by who?" he asked, inquisitive. This one seemed to have much more order and rigidity in her behavior and beliefs than the other, more chaotic horsemen he'd encountered. Kostya stared at the jewel again; at its dancing colors, the sheen of its planes, the clarity of the stone.

(He thought of the weight that crushed him, that he bore alone. The darkness would divert the purity of his stone, Kostya thought. It had to.)

"Maybe. Maybe not. Either vay, if all go vell, that should not happen for some time." A blank, impassive stare back at Sindri. "Sorry to disappoint."