Vasi glared at Prince Nikolai as he leaned in, but she said nothing. Whatever tenuous threads of friendship they’d still had snapped and burst into flame. He’d been charming when they met, but Vasi refused to be fooled by his kind words and easy smiles; Marika had been charismatic in the beginning, too. This Nikolai lied to Vasi’s face, was insistent on sending her father to his death, and stubbornly refused to look for djinn. None of that was friendship. Not even close.

“Henryk, give us a moment?” Nikolai asked, his voice tight. He stared at his brother, the pulse in his neck feathering through the corded muscle. “Please?”

Henryk’s silvery gaze once more searched Vasi’s face as if, maybe, he was seeking her permission. When she only turned away, he sighed and said, “Of course, Your Highness.”

Vasi could feel the movement of the carriage as one prince exited and the other entered, but she refused to look at either of them.

Nikolai grabbed her hands, and she yanked them away.

“Don’t touch me,” she said.

When he spoke, his voice dripped with anguish. “Vasi, we’ll lose this war. Their armies outnumber ours thirty or forty to one, and they are well trained. Furthermore, their artillery outmatches us far beyond that. We’ve relied on alleged verbal treaties that are nothing more than tradition, and if the wall completely fails, we have no real defense against Cervene’s thirst for blood. Your father is not only our best hope, he is our only hope for stopping this war. I would not see millions of my people slaughtered or enslaved. Please, Vasi.”

Vasi turned to the crown prince, and shame wrenched her heart. “I’m sure you want me to acknowledge the horrible choice you had to make and alleviate your guilt. Maybe you want me to tell you that sacrificing my father’s life is worth it to save Beloch? Well, I can’t.” Vasi glared at him and demanded, “Are you even going to try to find the witch? Are you even going to send men to search for a way to reinforce or repair the Phoenix Fire? Your father laughed in my face when I suggested it. Or, if you really want peace, why don’t you or Henryk go negotiate it?”

Nikolai ran his hand through his hair. “I understand you want there to be another way. I wish there was.”

Vasi clenched her hands. “You aren’t even going to try, are you? You’ve already given up because you think the djinn aren’t real.” She dug her nails into her palms to keep herself from hitting him and sucked in a breath. Finally, she snapped, “You’re wrong. You have evidence of magic around you even down to your precious Phoenix Fire. And you still don’t believe. But you are wrong.”

“Wanting something to be true isn’t enough to make it happen, Vasilisa. There is a war on our doorstep, and I have no time to chase after myths.” His handsome features hardened. “I’m sorry you’re angry. I’m sorry this sacrifice fell on your shoulders. I’m sorry I had no better option.” He studied her; the intensity of his gaze felt strangely intimate and forlorn. “But mostly, I’m sorry because I can see you are determined to hate me, and I’d hoped . . . I’d hoped it would be different between us. I’d wanted it . . . since we were . . .”

Her eyes heated, but she pushed back the tears. She would not cry in front of him. She would not let him charm her now and make her believe his lies only to be let down again. “Don’t. Just don’t,” she said, holding up her hand to stop him. “Don’t pretend you care. Don’t pretend to understand how I feel. And don’t pretend to know about what you won’t even look into. Now, please excuse me, Your Highness.”

He drew back as if she’d slapped him, and the vibrant blue of his eyes dimmed. His shoulders slumped, and he studied her face for a long moment before closing his eyes and nodding. Nikolai withdrew from the carriage, his features ravaged with loss. As he closed the door, he said, “Of course.”

Vasi heard the crunch of rocks under his boots on the path as he walked away. With her hands and voice trembling, she called, “Drive on.”

The hour dragged on, but eventually the coach pulled up to the stables of her home, and Vasi leaped from the carriage. Two other royal coaches were parked as well, but Vasi dismissed them. They were probably here to deliver more of Marika’s wealth.

If no one else would go into the Ctyri forest, Vasi would do it. She’d been there many times with her mother, and there was nothing to fear. All of Beloch refused to believe in magic, but Vasilisa would not only find it, she would find the djinn and make them help her. First thing, she’d find the witch who knew the djinn because everyone still believed in Baba Yaga.

As Vasilisa considered what she would need to pack, she allowed herself only one brief moment of hope that she’d come across the witch’s hut within a few hours. If that happened, then she could be on her way to locate the djinn. Hope for the best, but plan for the worst. Which meant she needed to pack for more than the day.

Vasilisa thought of her mother leading her through the forest, and the memories of happier times solidified Vasi’s determination. But her confidence and enthusiasm slipped as soon as she crossed the threshold and stepped into the kitchen.

Chaos had exploded in Cook’s normally organized and orderly space. The pots, pans, cutlery, and every single kitchen item they owned was strewn across the counters.

“Now see ’ere. Don’t you dare—” the thin new cook snapped at a soldier, and then her shoulders sagged with relief when she saw Vasi. “Where’s your mother? These people say they’re from the tsar and tha’ we’re moving to the duchy of Trava.”

Brida bustled into the kitchen with Danek on her heels.

“I’m sure the master would’ve let us know,” Danek said. With a furrow of confusion, he asked, “Where’s Master Casimir?”

Vasilisa pushed away her emotions, burying them deep within her heart. Perhaps there would come a time when she’d allow herself to feel again, but right now, she would be strong. She gritted her teeth and faced the chaos. “Tsar Baine has awarded Papa the duchy. Madam Cook, Brida, please oversee the packing in the house. Danek, I’d appreciate if you’d keep an eye on how things go in the stables. Papa has been called to Cervene . . .” Her voice caught as she acknowledged the reality, but she pressed forward. “I’m sure he’ll be grateful to all who help with the transition.”

Brida’s mouth dropped open.

Danek cleared his throat. “How long ago did he leave? Could I catch up with him?”

Vasi shook her head. Even if he could, she knew her father wouldn’t want to put Danek at risk, so she lied. “He knew we’d need you here and asked that you stay. I’m sorry.”

The young man took his disappointment well. With a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and, addressing the room, said, “Then I’ll be outside making sure things are done properly.”

His words spurred Brida and the cook into action, which was a mercy as the tsar’s men and women hadn’t stopped packing during the exchange.

With all of the activity and people moving in and out of the house, it should have been easy to grab the doll and Casimir’s knife, but Vasi was stopped three times before she could even leave the kitchen. Every step Vasi took, someone asked about where something should go or if it was worth keeping. Despite her hurried answers, a couple hours passed before Vasi finally made it to her room.

There was so much to do. Vasi changed into a plain coarse shift, drab and brown. She laced up her boots and pinned on her threadbare cloak, hoping to make it to the woods for at least a few hours this afternoon.

“There you are,” she whispered, kneeling by her bed. She reached into the hole she’d made last night in the mattress, plunging her hand deep into the down. She fished around the feathers for several seconds, their hollow shafts poking her, and then her fingers brushed her prize. Wrapping her hand around the hilt, Vasi pulled out the familiar jeweled weapon. The gems glistened up at her, winking in vibrant greens and blues.

Out of her window, the sun started its descent to the horizon; the sky outside was splashed with oranges and golds, and Vasi slipped the knife and doll into her pockets. In a small sack, she packed flint, a salve for scrapes, and a change of clothes—what she remembered her mother taking on their excursions into the forest. Grabbing the heavy cloak, Vasi only needed to pack food and make an offering to the djinn before she left.

The bustle had diminished. Many of the tsar’s servants were now gone, likely with the laden carts to unpack at the duchy. Once Marika got home, Vasi would be yoked with more work, and then she would never be able to leave. Something about the departure of the other servants made Vasi feel the need to hasten hers, and she ran toward the kitchen, skidding to a halt in the hall when she heard Marika snap, “Insufferable.”

Run!

Run? Vasi turned, her muscles coiled to sprint, but then Marika called out as she stepped into the hall.

“Ah, here you are, Vasilisa.” Marika sounded infinitely pleased. “Come in here, girl.”

As Vasi’s whole body tingled with the need to run, she stepped through the doorway.

Marika stood in the center of the great hall, the room filled with their possessions. The chaise lounge from the solar remained as well as the tea table and chairs. Several trunks were stacked in the center of the room.

“Where have you been?” Marika asked as she glanced at Vasi’s travel attire. “Or should I ask where do you think you’re going?”