Perhaps Vasi was still in bed, asleep, dreaming, because she couldn’t believe he, Crown Prince Nikolai, was proposing to send her father into an enemy country. She glared at her childhood friend; he’d lied to her, made her believe her father was going to stay home.

The prince nodded, possibly affirming the horror of which he spoke or confirming his own betrayal.

Casimir narrowed his eyes. “I’m certain I was clear last night. We agreed that you would send Bertrand. If Bertrand fails, then I’ve agreed to go.” His gaze bounced to the tsar and then back to Nikolai. “You must allow me some time with my family.” Casimir reached out and rested his hand on Vasi’s arm. “Please.”

Tsar Baine nodded as if he were considering Casimir’s request.

“Hundreds of thousands of soldiers sit in wait outside our border. The barrier that has kept us safe is failing. Somehow, thousands were able to get through, and they laid waste to our battalions stationed by the border, and that’s with just a fraction of their army,” Nikolai said with a shake of his head.

Thought fled Vasi’s mind. “They have hundreds of thousands of soldiers?” she whispered. “What can you expect one man to do?”

She didn’t even realize she’d spoken the words out loud until she glanced up and saw all of the men staring at her.

“He can stop the war,” Nikolai said. “He can negotiate peace.”

“No one has gone into Cervene in months and lived,” she snapped.

“Your father can; he is the best negotiator we’ve ever had. How can you have so little faith in him?”

Vasi inhaled, her temper flaring, but before she could formulate her response, Casimir wrapped his arm around Vasi’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze, silencing her retort.

Nikolai gestured to the long map that hung across the room’s wall. The realm of Ctyri was laid out with pins of white and red dotting the border of Cervene and Beloch. There were far more red pins than white. “Your father could change the course of the war. Ten thousand men, perhaps more, are already dead—”

“Nikolai,” Tsar Baine snapped. “We do not know if those numbers are accurate. The most we’ve lost is peasant soldiers—”

“Father,” growled Nikolai. “You forget yourself—”

Tsar Baine slammed his hand down on the table, his previously impassive features twisting into hot rage in an instant as he glared at his son. “No. You forget yourself. I am the tsar.” Tsar Baine turned to Casimir. “I understand you want time to rest from your trip to Temavy, but your tsar needs you. If you want more wealth, fine. More lands? A title? I’ll even throw in marriage to Nikolai for one of your girls; it’s what your wife said you wanted. Blazes, Henryk can marry the other one. Both of your daughters will be royalty.”

Nikolai’s eyes widened. “Father! I will not marry Roza—”

Tsar Baine spun and, in one fluid movement, slapped his son across the face.

A shocked silence fell, blanketing the room. Vasi remembered then how cruel Tsar Baine could be, the stories Nikolai had shared in years past.

The tsar glared at his son and said, “You are dismissed, Nikolai. I have ruled Beloch for thirty years, ten before you were even born. I do not require your help.”

Anger, frustration, and shame rolled off Nikolai in waves. A dark print of Tsar Baine’s hand rose to the surface of the prince’s cheek. He gritted his teeth, his pulse feathering rapidly in his neck, and then bowed his head. Without another word, Prince Nikolai left.

When the door clicked shut, Tsar Baine looked at Vasi and spoke again. “I know you think me cruel, girl. But there can only be one leader. All others are beneath, and they must remember their place, even the crown prince. I know it is not that much different within your own home.”

Vasilisa’s stomach roiled, and disgust for her tsar bubbled up in her chest. Still, she would say nothing to embarrass her papa.

“You will leave in an hour, Casimir,” Tsar Baine said, turning his attention back to her father. “If the Cervene army crosses the border, it will mean the end of us. Holy Djinn, if even a tenth of their army slips through, Beloch will fall.”

“No.” Casimir stood and leaned over the table. “We had a deal. I’m not asking for more. I don’t want more. I just want the time to which we’d agreed.”

“What about the djinn?” Vasi asked desperately.

The two men looked at her. Tsar Baine’s lip curled as Casimir’s eyes widened.

“What if a witch or the djinn could fix the Phoenix Fire? If the Fire was put back in place, all of Cervene’s soldiers would be banished back to their country.” She was desperate, grasping for a solution that would allow her father to stay. Her palms slicked with her anxiety, but she couldn’t think of a single thing to save her papa from going to Cervene except the myths of the djinn and magic of the stars. “The Four Horsemen are said to still live in the woods. We could give them an offering. Can’t we go ask them for help?”

She didn’t finish the rest of the story her mother had told her—how the djinn waited for someone to redeem humanity.

Casimir shook his head. “Forgive my daughter. My late wife was fond of such myths.”

“How can you say it’s a myth, Father?” Vasi was perplexed with the willful ignorance of these men. She looked at the tsar and asked, “How can you agree The Phoenix Fire exists and not believe the djinn do too?”

“She sounds like she’s studied under the Celestial Sisters,” the tsar scoffed. His features hardened as he addressed Vasi, “The wall is an ancient relic . . . because the Celestial Beings have always favored Beloch and the Baine dynasty. It’s time for you to grow up. Aside from beasts, the only thing living in those woods is the witch, Baba Yaga, and she eats little girls like you.” The tsar’s disdain deepened into something much darker as he turned his attention back to Casimir. “Do not force my hand, Casimir. I’m losing my subjects and my land every day. I would hate to see your loved ones suffer.” As the words passed his lips, Tsar Baine blinked, and a slow smile spread across his face. He turned to Vasilisa with a gleam in his eyes. “How would you like to be a guest here at the palace? I’m sure I can find entertainment to keep you occupied.”

Casimir’s face blanched, and the energy of his protest drained from him. “No,” he gasped. “I’ll go. I will leave as soon as my family has returned home.”

The tsar sat back in his seat and steepled his fingers. “You may say your goodbyes here and walk your daughter out to the carriage. Marika and I have unfinished business, but I’ll be sure to send her home when we’re finished. She and her daughter, I understand, are being entertained, so she’ll come home later. With . . . your wife.”

As the meaning of what the tsar was saying settled, Vasilisa’s jaw dropped. She glanced at her father to see if she’d misunderstood the tsar’s implied intimacy with Marika, but Casimir hadn’t flinched.

“You will send my daughter home, and . . . no one will harm her?”

The tsar nodded.

Casimir extended his hand and said, “I have your oath on this?”

Tsar Baine’s face visibly relaxed, and he shook Casimir’s hand. “Of course. None of my men will even touch her. You have my word on it.”

The repulsive truth settled, and Vasi wished she could uncomprehend it. Her heart pounded, threatening to flee her chest, and she clenched her hands, the ache in her wrist muted as the horror her father’s departure would mean hit her. Desperate for something, she sent up a silent plea to the djinn that one would rescue Vasi and her papa from this nightmare. She swallowed back the sob trying to escape. Her father was leaving. Her father was leaving. And Marika . . . The tsar . . .

“Let me say goodbye,” Casimir said, his shoulders sagging. “Your soldiers can wait outside.”

The tsar stood. Whatever regal or noble thoughts Vasi once had of her monarch were gone. She watched with growing abhorrence as he brushed nonexistent lint from his tailored doublet. For a moment, another view of the tsar appeared. His hands elongated and his fingers warped, the tips turning into heavy chains, but as quick as she saw it, his hands returned to normal.

“Good-day, Lady Kavka,” Tsar Baine said to her with a shallow bow. Then he crossed the room, opened the door, turned back, and looking at Casimir, said, “I’ll bestow the title and lands right now and have them ready for occupancy when you return, Duke Kavka. Beloch thanks you for your service.”

Then the tsar closed the door.

Casimir dropped his head in his hands and mumbled incoherently.

Vasi was rooted to her seat in shock, but when she heard her papa’s ragged breathing, she pushed out of her chair and knelt before him. “Papa.”

Casimir took a deep breath and faced his daughter. Cupping her cheek in his hands and with tears streaming down his worn face, he said, “I’m so sorry. I’ve failed you, my sweet girl, and I am powerless now to save you.”

Watching her father mourn, Vasi’s heart cracked and splintered. He’d negotiated her release and her safety. She wasn’t totally naive, and she couldn’t stand to have her father weighed down with such a burden. She needed to give him some measure of peace too. “I’ll be fine, Papa. I’ll take care of things until you get home.”

“Just take care of yourself. Do whatever you have to do,” he whispered as the guards marched in around them. He leaned closer and said, “Do whatever you must to stay safe.”

Vasi’s heart shattered, and she knew she would never be whole again.

Everyone at the court seemed to have conspired to interrupt Vasi’s and Casimir’s tender goodbye. First, messengers needed Casimir’s attention. Then, several guards carrying heavy trunks of wealth demanded instruction from him. And finally, the soldiers accompanied the pair to the carriage and encircled Casimir, forcing him to leave.

Her father stood on his toes and waved at Vasi. She blew him a kiss, and he smiled. But it was a sad attempt at levity, and neither the one he offered nor the one she returned did anything to lift her spirits.

Casimir disappeared amidst the guards, and then the group vanished into the castle.

Vasilisa swallowed the lump in her throat as her eyes filled with fresh tears. She sat alone in the carriage, no longer able to see her father, just the soldiers surrounding him as they led him away. Their images blurred, and she wiped furiously at the tears and stared up at the faded-red fabric on the ceiling of the coach. There was a small tear in the worn material, but the riches at Vasi’s feet would probably be used to buy a new carriage, not just fix this one. She turned her attention back to the window as the group approached the castle.

Vasi wanted to be strong. She wanted to do something to fix her predicament or even have someone fix it for her, but what was she to do?

Her hand went to her apron pocket where the doll would be, only to realize, once again, she wasn’t wearing her apron. A longing for a better time filled her, a time when Vasi lived with her mother and father, surrounded in their love, when life had been beautiful. Life was hideous now. Filled with defeat and despair, Vasilisa pounded on the front of the carriage and shouted, “Home, please.”

But it wasn’t even her home anymore. It was Marika’s by marriage, and Vasi knew she was only going back to the house to become a servant once again.

The wheels began to trundle over the loose gravel, halting when a figure appeared in the doorway, blocking out the light.

“Hello again, Vasi,” Prince Henryk said. He opened the door and fell into the seat across from her, meeting her startled gaze.

Vasi stared at the smirking prince, and her anger rose. She’d obviously misjudged him. He was far more than a scoundrel if he came to torment her after his father’s cruelty. “Get out, Henryk.”

“Why are you angry at me?” His brows rose, but he kicked up his boots onto the seat beside her. “I’m told we are to be married.”

Vasi didn’t answer. With everything else that had happened today, her engagement had completely slipped her mind.

He continued, “And my brother is engaged to your horrid sister, the vapid puppet with a minx for a mother. So, as much as I’d love to leave it at that, given the alternative . . .” He sighed, a forlorn sound of utter weariness. “I’m not quite that selfish. My brother and this kingdom need you. I’m here to offer my services in making that happen.”

Vasi glared across the space into Henryk’s vibrant silver eyes. “You’re sick and . . . delusional. I don’t want to marry either of you. At all. You can both marry Roza and go live in the woods for all I care.” Who did he think he was offering to help her marry Nikolai? She hated Nikolai. And with this absurd proposal . . . “I hate you. All of you. Get out of my carriage. You have no right to be here—”

His hardened expression interrupted her because he did have every right to be here with her. Henryk was a prince and now her fiancé. Vasi’s eyes filled with tears, and she repeatedly blinked, desperate to keep them at bay until she was alone to mourn.

The prince’s boots hit the floor as the carriage lurched forward, and he leaned across the space. His expression melted from hardened arrogance to clear concern. “What’s the matter, Vasilisa? What’s happened?”

Her pain turned to anger in a flash. “You know why I’m upset. Otherwise, how would you know we’re engaged? Maybe, in your apathetic heart, you just can’t fathom why I’d be upset . . .”

“I’ve never pretended to be kindhearted,” he said slowly, slipping from the seat to kneel before her. He covered her hands with his. “But I don’t know why you’re upset. Will you tell me?”

She didn’t answer, gritting her teeth while she fought back her emotion. Vasi forced her gaze to the ceiling of the carriage and blinked, trying to make the tears disappear.

The carriage continued on silently but for the rattle of the wheels beneath them. She felt his intense concentration on her face, and then Henryk brushed his fingers over her cheeks.

She closed her eyes, and two tears spilled out.

“Who made you cry?” Henryk whispered, wiping away the tears. “What’s happened?” And then he murmured, almost to himself, “Cursed limitations.”

Limitations? Was he speaking of her? She refused to meet his gaze. And she refused to cry anymore before the prince, even if he was her fiancé. “Don’t pretend to care,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. She continued, choking on the words, “It’s not . . . right.”

Henryk said nothing, but he continued his tender caress of her face. “You misunderstand, Vasilisa. I just wonder why must we sacrifice so much?” he whispered. “For so many undeserving.”

His statement startled Vasi, and she opened her eyes and met his silvery gaze. “What are you talking about?”

The scoundrel prince stared at her, the intensity charging the air surrounding them. “Do you ever wish”—he stroked his thumb across her bottom lip—“you could take what you wanted, the consequences be damned?”

Vasi’s lips parted, and then the prince’s comment registered. She pulled back and shook her head. “It’s because your father acted thus that my heart is breaking, Your Highness. There are always consequences.”

“Yes,” Henryk replied, his gaze dropping to her lips. “But that doesn’t stop the wanting.”

The silence stretched, and Vasi felt a magnetic pull toward the prince. Her heart raced, and she wondered if his lips would be as soft against hers as when he’d kissed her hand. Henryk drew closer, and their breath mingled.

“Vasilisa, wait!” Nikolai’s distant shout interrupted the continuous crunch of wheels on gravel. “Stop!”

As if waking, Henryk blinked and pulled back, his hand dropping from her chin, and he settled into the seat across from her again. With a deep breath, he clenched his hands by his sides.

“Vasilisa!”

Vasi ignored the crown prince’s familiar voice, but the driver slowed. Her frustration, compounded by confusion, flared anew, and the emotion ignited her previous anger with the princes, the flame burning hot, demanding release. As Nikolai approached the carriage, Vasi pounded on the ceiling as she hollered to the driver, “Continue driving!”

The look of concern on Henryk’s face deepened as he peered between Vasi and the window where his brother’s figure was disappearing. “You’re not going to hear him out? I thought you loved him.”

“No. I never want to hear anything he has to say ever again. Love doesn’t act like that.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Henryk as the confusing blend of emotions raged within. For a moment, Vasi thought he was going to kiss her. And that she’d wanted him to, very much, unsettled her. But all trace of passion evaporated with Nikolai’s voice, and the dark-haired prince schooled his features into an impassive expression.

Questions swirled in her mind, a whirlwind of whys and hows and what was going on? Vasi found her voice and choked out, “Why do you care so much about Nikolai and me?”

“For the good of Beloch,” he said.

“If you really want to save Beloch, why don’t you do something? More than offering me up as a marriage sacrifice. Everyone mocks me about believing in the djinn. But if magical creatures didn’t really exist, then why are there all the festivals, and why is everyone afraid of Ctyri Forest? What happened to Zelena if not magic? The djinn are still out there.”

She was as certain of it as her own name. Danica had known it. And the more Vasi thought about it, the more convinced she became that the djinn were the answer. If no one else would go into the woods and find them, she’d do it.

She glared at Prince Henryk, who stared with his mouth unhinged, and her irritation grew with the prince’s silence. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this; you obviously don’t care.”

He tilted his head to the side and said, “I would say you’re more . . . yelling it at me. And I don’t disagree with you about the djinn. I just don’t believe they can fix this. But I would sacrifice everything . . . for my kingdom.”

“Well, then do something,” she replied, still seething. “I would tell you I’m sorry for yelling, but I’m not. And I’m not marrying you, or your brother just because—”

“In the name of Beloch, stop the carriage!” Nikolai yelled.

There was a loud, “Whoa,” from above, and then the coach trundled to a stop.

A moment later, Nikolai opened the door and then ducked his head in. A fine layer of sweat coated his forehead, and his hair curled around his face and neck. After a heavy breath, he pinned her with his gaze and said, “Vasilisa, please, let me explain.”