By morning, the churches of Saint Petersburg overflowed with those afraid of the devil’s arrival, and the streets filled with men concealing knives in every sleeve and pocket, whispering of capturing the witch and burning her alive. Vika was safely ensconced at home on Ovchinin Island, but she didn’t need to be in Saint Petersburg to know the city was on the brink of panicked hysteria. She’d seen it and heard it stirring already as she tamed Peter the Great’s statue. And fear always flourished in the dark of night.
With the sun rising behind her, Vika stood at the edge of the island’s forests, looking across the frozen bay at Saint Petersburg in the distance. She was supposed to report to the Winter Palace to meet with Pasha and Yuliana. And yet the string that tethered her to Nikolai pulled insistently.
Where are you, Nikolai? She closed her eyes and tried to feel his magic. But there was nothing, not even a hint of his silken warmth. Vika sighed as she opened her eyes. He must have a barrier shield around him.
She shouldn’t be wanting him anyway. Sergei had raised her better than to turn her back on the tsardom so easily. Father had been Russian through and through, all balalaika music and borscht and rustic saunas full of birch branches and leaves. The same love for Russia infused Vika’s soul, and she knew in her blood that what the country needed was not a vengeful shadow as tsar, but a boy who had grown up in the imperial family, learning the history of the people and the art of ruling the empire. Vika might have loved Nikolai and loathed Pasha, but that didn’t mean Nikolai was right for the throne. Not at all.
I suppose I must go, she thought. Even though I don’t want to.
Duty called.
So Vika evanesced into the former tsar’s study in the Winter Palace.
Her head spun as she rematerialized; stars actually flickered at the edges of her vision. She seemed to arrive more quickly than it ordinarily took to cover the distance from Ovchinin Island to the city, as if the magic she commanded was more potent this morning, like drinking five or six cups of tea instead of one. How bizarre, especially considering that Nikolai was now sharing in Bolshebnoie Duplo’s power. It took a moment for Vika to shake the stars from her head.
The young guard at the door—Ilya, she thought his name was—gawked at the space Vika occupied, where there hadn’t been a girl a few seconds before. But there was no point in hiding her comings and goings. With the secret of magic out, everyone knew what she was.
When her vision cleared, she took in the study. A painting of Saint Petersburg hung behind the desk, and a portrait of Catherine the Great graced the wall to Vika’s right. The entire room was decorated in royal blue and gold, from the crown molding to the trim around the floor-to-ceiling windows to the Persian rug upon the floor.
Yuliana sat at the late tsar’s desk, naturally, and Pasha paced in front of the windows. He’d clearly been doing so since before Vika arrived; he’d worn a groove into the carpet with his boots. But why did Vika even care? She might have intended to defend his right to the crown, but it didn’t mean he shouldn’t suffer. Pasha had brought this stress—arguably, this entire turn of events—upon himself.
Yuliana cast a withering look at Vika. “You couldn’t have put down the statue more discreetly?”
Vika scowled right back at her. “Next time you try your hand at taming a bronze tsar-come-to-life. We’ll see how discreetly you manage it. Besides, you’re not the one the entire city wants to roast on a stake, so I think I’m the one with a right to complain if anyone can.”
Pasha groaned. “Enough. Bickering won’t solve anything. Some believe the statue was one of the four horsemen portending the apocalypse. People have already begun to flee the city. And the black market in Sennaya Square is overrun by those who can’t afford to leave, seeking wards against evil spirits.”
“Oh,” Vika said, but only partially in response to what Pasha had just said.
“Oh, what?” Yuliana asked.
“I just understood something. Belief begets more magic.” Vika recalled the stories Father used to tell her about when Russia and other countries believed more openly in magic. “That’s why it was easier for me to evanesce. Before today, only a handful of us knew about magic. But after Nikolai’s statue, tens of thousands of people suddenly believe—or fear—magic, and that, in turn, stokes Bolshebnoie Duplo’s ability to generate more.” She held up her hand, which sparked visibly at the fingertips. She jittered as she tried to stand still on the carpet. Vika had never been one who could be easily contained, but this surge in the power gave new definition to the word “irrepressible.”
Yuliana scrunched her nose. “However, it also means that not only are you more powerful, but Nikolai will be as well.”
The sparks at Vika’s fingers snuffed out, the momentary thrill of all that power suffocated by Yuliana’s insight. There would likely be enough magic now that there would be no more hitches, real or dreamed. But it also meant bigger and more dangerous enchantments.
Vika crossed the study and sank into one of the pair of blue-and-gold chairs in the center of the room, angled to face the tsar’s desk.
Pasha dropped his head against the window frame with a resigned thunk. “Quel désastre.”
“Agreed, it is a disaster.” Vika leaned into the backrest of her chair. “We have to save Nikolai.”
Pasha came and sat in the chair next to her. He made a miserable attempt to smile, which said quite a lot, because Pasha could always smile. His inability to do so made something inside Vika twinge, even though she was still furious at him for both the end of the Game and the asinine command to conjure him a midnight snack.
“Save Nikolai from what?” Pasha asked.
Vika shook her head. “I don’t know. But it’s obvious the boy from last night was not the same one who sacrificed his life for me at the end of the Game. Whatever is influencing him—or whatever change has taken root because he’s a shadow—must be undone.”
Yuliana laughed caustically. “I don’t care if it’s the devil himself who’s possessing Nikolai. He made an outright threat on the tsesarevich’s life.”
Of course Yuliana knew everything. Pasha had undoubtedly shared every detail as soon as Vika had evanesced him back to the palace last night.
“That’s treason,” the grand princess continued. “There is no option to save someone like that. Nikolai must be arrested and executed.”
“But he’s done nothing wrong!” Vika said.
“You call threatening to usurp the throne ‘nothing wrong’?”
Vika squeezed the armrest of her chair and took a deep breath. “Those were words spoken out of hurt. Perhaps he can be convinced to change his mind. He hasn’t actually tried to take the crown.”
“She has a point,” Pasha said. “So far, Nikolai has committed only civil disobedience.”
Vika stared at him. Was he really supporting her argument, even though Nikolai had threatened to kill him?
“You are both far too forgiving.” Yuliana crossed her arms.
“I don’t mean we should let Nikolai roam around, free to cause more trouble.” Pasha turned to Vika. “Can you find and detain him somehow? If only I could show him how sorry I am, if he could see reason . . .”
Vika blinked, still somewhat disbelieving that he’d taken her side. Then she shook her head. “I don’t know where Nikolai is. He has a barrier around himself.”
“But you’ll still try to find him?” Pasha asked.
She sighed. “Yes, I’ll still try.” It was a compromise sloppily covering a half-truth—for now, they could pretend they would jail Nikolai and somehow find a resolution that satisfied all of them, and satisfied justice. But the other half of the truth was that compromise was impossible. Yuliana wanted to kill Nikolai. Vika wanted to save him. And Pasha didn’t actually want the same thing Vika did. He wanted the past undone and this problem to go away.
She decided to shift the conversation, at least temporarily, away from what to do about Nikolai. “The city needs calm after the statue’s rampage last night,” she said. “Perhaps we could reassure them by demonstrating to the people that my magic is good.”
Yuliana tapped a quill against one of the gold map weights on the desk. She nodded. “Not a bad idea. And we’ll show them that you and your magic are under control, that you’re Pasha’s.”
“I don’t belong to anybody!”
“But you do.” Yuliana used her quill to point at the bracelet.
Vika banged the cuff against the armrest. “I—”
Pasha exhaled loudly but said nothing, as if telling the two of them not to fight was a cause so lost, it wasn’t even worth uttering the words.
For the sake of reaching a solution, Vika swallowed her protest. It tasted of bitter herbs.
Pasha cleared his throat. “I don’t know how I feel about putting you in the line of danger, Vika. The city’s mad. There’s a bounty on your head.”
She laughed. She didn’t mean to, but it burst forth before she could stop it. I’ve survived another enchanter trying to kill me, she thought. Ordinary people are no match.
Yet Pasha’s concern thawed a touch more of Vika’s resentment toward him. Here he was, facing not only a threat to the throne from Nikolai, but also a potential riot in the capital, and Pasha still had enough humanity within him to worry over Vika’s safety. Perhaps he had not changed as much as she’d thought at the end of the Game. Perhaps he’d merely gone astray and was now finding his way back to himself.
“Thank you for your concern,” Vika said. “But I’ll be fine.”
It was only if Nikolai came after her that she would have something to worry about. No, not if. When. For if Nikolai meant to take the throne, the bracelet around Vika’s wrist ensured that he’d have to fight his way through her, too. Vika’s chest tightened, as though her heart were locking itself from hurt and throwing away the key.
“It will be harder, if not impossible, to convince the people that Peter the Great’s statue was a feat of engineering or a show,” Pasha said. “Unlike during the Game, there were too many witnesses this time. We can’t undo the people seeing the magic, can we?”
“No,” Vika said, her voice thin as she tried to recover from her own thoughts. “I can’t erase memories.” She’d tried many a time before when she was younger, in hopes that Sergei would forget she’d done this or that wrong. It never worked; it only botched things further when he realized what she’d attempted, and got her in more trouble.
Pasha balled up his hands and pressed them against his eyes. “Damn it.”
The magic swelled inside Vika. Seeing Pasha vulnerable helped her pull herself together. He needed her, his Imperial Enchanter. “What I’m suggesting,” she said, “is that if we can’t hide magic, we ought to trumpet it.”
“I don’t know if the people can handle it,” Yuliana said.
“History isn’t on our side in terms of revealing magic to the masses.” Pasha slowly peeled his hands away from his face. “And yet, it’s not as if Saint Petersburg hasn’t already been exposed. I say we give Vika’s approach a try.”
Yuliana chewed the inside of her cheek skeptically.
But Vika smiled.
“Fine, if this is what you want.” Yuliana abandoned her quill and picked up the map weight instead, tapping it on the desk. “Here’s my proposal: Pasha, the people need to see you. They trust in your goodness. You should ride through the city, give them comfort, tell them that magic is not to be feared, while Vika shows them.”
Pasha nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
“I’ll stay behind,” she said. “They don’t like me much.”
“Yuliana—” Pasha began.
She shook her head. “It’s all right. We each have our strengths and our weaknesses, remember? You are the one the people need right now.”
Vika nodded. For once, she agreed. “What sort of enchantment do you think would calm them?” she asked Pasha.
He snapped his fingers as he thought. “The holidays are approaching. You could . . .” Snap, snap, snap. “How about conjuring a Christmas tree that gives gifts to the children?”
“And throws fire at Nikolai should he come near,” Yuliana said casually.
The color drained from Pasha’s face.
Vika clenched her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms. “I’ll do this on my own terms.”
“No, we’ve just been through this. You use magic on our terms,” Yuliana said.
Vika dug her fingernails deeper into her skin. Only a few moments ago, she’d been glad to be Imperial Enchanter. But now, even if she hadn’t had the cuff around her wrist, she would have been able to feel the shackles tighten and the chain pull taut.
The thing was, she was no longer helping Pasha solely because her vow compelled her to, but that didn’t mean she was choosing him over Nikolai. Nikolai clearly needed help, too. He wasn’t himself, and locked heart or not, Vika did not intend to allow his new ambition to swallow him, not without Vika putting up a fight to find the old Nikolai, her Nikolai, beneath the shadow.
Also, she did not like being told precisely what to do. I am not a mere foot soldier, she thought. I’m a general.
And yet, the bracelet. Her wrist weighed heavily against the chair.
Yuliana continued talking, as if she hadn’t just insulted Vika. Then again, Yuliana probably hadn’t noticed. She was the grand princess after all, accustomed to giving orders and having them followed without question. “How do we protect my brother if Nikolai appears during your tour of the city?”
Pasha remained pale and silent in his chair.
“I’ll . . . cast a shield around him while we’re together,” Vika said, forcing herself to ignore Yuliana’s slight. If Vika was going to be Imperial Enchanter, she’d have to learn to let insults from the grand princess go, for there would surely be a multitude of them.
“And what about when you’re not with him?”
Vika shook her head. “I can’t maintain a shield when I’m not near. The magic required for an enchantment like that would be immense, because the shield would need to be able to respond to whatever harm threatened His Imperial Highness. If I knew that it was going to be something specific, like swords or bullets, I could cast a shield. But I have no clue what . . .”
Her mouth dried up. She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“What Nikolai has planned,” Pasha said quietly, finishing the thought for her.
Vika bit her lip and nodded.
“Well, we cannot leave Pasha completely exposed,” Yuliana said, her tone surprisingly soft. She’d stopped toying with the map weight and now looked at her brother, as if memorizing him just in case his chair was empty the next time.
Vika might not have liked the grand princess, but she understood that look. Yuliana’s love for her family and her country was both her strength and her weakness. It had propelled her to suggest the quick ending to the Game. And it would drive her decisions about stopping Nikolai.
“I have an idea.” Vika touched the basalt pendant she wore around her neck. It glowed for a second as she infused it with an enchantment. Then she unfastened it.
“Here,” she said to Pasha.
“What is it?” He reached across the space between the chairs to take the necklace.
But Vika remained where she was and, instead, floated it to him.
Pasha’s face fell.
Touching him seemed too much like taking sides, and although she was beginning to see signs of the old Pasha again, she had made it clear that she also wanted to save Nikolai. Not wanting to choose sides was also why she still called Pasha by his title, at least to his face.
“I’ve charmed it, Your Imperial Highness,” Vika said. “As long as you’re wearing the necklace, the enchantment allows you to communicate with me even when I’m elsewhere, in case you need me. All you need to do is wrap your hand around the pendant as you’re doing now, and I’ll be able to hear you.”
Pasha looked at the stone in his hand. Then he fastened it around his own neck. “Thank you.” He smiled at her, no trace of his disappointment remaining. His years of growing up in the imperial family and practice with putting on facades was evident. Or perhaps knowing that Vika would be there for him offered him some comfort?
In any case, he scooted to the edge of his chair and sat a bit taller. “Our plan, then, is twofold. We attempt to locate Nikolai, make amends, and stop this madness before any more damage is done. And in the meantime, we work on calming the people and convincing them that magic will be used for good.”
“So you want me to enchant a Christmas tree on the city tour?” Vika asked.
“Yes,” Pasha said. “Please.”
“I still think you should include fire,” Yuliana said. “If an enchanter is going to burn at the stake, it might as well be Nikolai.”
“Yuliana, no,” Pasha said, his hand tugging on a lock of hair. “I’ve made my decision. This is our plan. Now, I need to change clothes. Or, um, write down what I’m going to say. Or tell the Guard to ready a carriage.” He practically vaulted out of his chair and hurried from the study.
When he was well down the hall and out of earshot, Yuliana rose from behind the desk, as if none of what had transpired bothered her. It probably hadn’t.
She looked down her nose at Vika. “My brother’s life is in your hands,” she said. “As is the future of all Russia. Think carefully as you choose your loyalties and make your decisions.” She held Vika’s gaze for a long moment before she turned on her heel and whisked out of the room.
Vika stared at the door after them, sinking deeper into her chair. The weight of life and death and an entire empire was no small thing to bear.