Footsteps echoed in the fortress hallway. Vika was still sitting on the ground, head bobbing as she dangled on the cusp of falling asleep. She hadn’t been able to rest since . . . since when? So much had happened, she couldn’t keep track of the last time she’d laid her head down in bed.
But Vika wouldn’t get a chance to sleep yet, for a girl’s voice echoed from down the hall. “J’en ai eu assez!” I have had enough!
That must be Yuliana, likely having come upon the guards Nikolai rendered unconscious—or killed?—on his way to Aizhana. And any second, she’d burst through that final door to find not only that her father’s murderer was already dead and hence she’d be deprived of watching Aizhana hang, but also that Nikolai had escaped from imprisonment, and Vika had let him go. Vika dropped her head to the tops of her knees.
A minute later, the door did open, but it was not the angry stomping she’d expected. Vika looked up slowly.
Gavriil, captain of Pasha’s Guard, entered with his pistol drawn. Ilya followed.
Pasha was right behind them, a gun in his hand, too. He scanned the hall, from Aizhana’s locked cell to the flickering sconces on the wall and finally, to Vika curled up on the floor.
“Vika!” He stashed his pistol away and rushed across the hall. Gavriil and Ilya spread out to cover him.
“What happened?” Pasha asked as he reached her. “Are you all right?”
She couldn’t respond.
Pasha gathered her in his arms, and for once, she let someone console her. She released her knees and allowed her body to go slack against him.
Yuliana stomped in through the door despite the protests of the last guard, who trailed after her.
“I assume it’s all clear.” She huffed as she crossed the hall to where Vika huddled against Pasha. “I’m not sure I even want to know the explanation for what happened here.”
Pasha sighed. “Give her a minute, s’il vous plaît.”
Vika stared at Yuliana. Her hair was a mess, and dried blood was smeared across her face. Vika looked to Pasha. His hair was also a mess, but that was normal, which was why she hadn’t noticed before that something was awry.
Vika pulled herself together. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“The good news,” Pasha said, “is your shield works. The bad news is, Nikolai tried to kill us.”
Vika clambered to her feet. She’d feared something like this would happen, that Nikolai’s grief would drive him to extremes again. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Pasha said.
“No, we’re not.” Yuliana said, as she marched over to the door of Aizhana’s cell. “Unlock this,” she said to Vika. “I’ve had enough of the Karimovs. I’m going to strangle Nikolai’s mother with my own hands.”
“She’s . . . already dead,” Vika said.
“I beg your pardon?” Yuliana whirled to face her.
“Nikolai let the alligators loose.”
“Alligators? Nikolai? You had better start explaining, enchantress.”
Pasha squeezed Vika’s shoulder. And she told them what had transpired.
When she was finished, Yuliana flew at her, grabbing Vika by both arms and shaking her. “Nikolai tried to kill my brother. And what did you do? An atrocious job at trapping him, and then you allow him to waltz in here to see our father’s murderer and steal justice from us . . . and then . . . argh! You shower him with flowers as if in a parade, while he tries to kill us again!” Yuliana slapped Vika across the face.
“Yuliana!” Pasha grabbed her and yanked her away.
Vika rubbed her cheek and looked at the grand princess. “I deserved that.”
“No, you didn’t,” Pasha said.
Vika stared at him. How can he still be so good?
“You deserve worse,” Yuliana said.
Vika could not deny that.
Yuliana seethed. “You found a loophole in my orders and undermined them on purpose, didn’t you, because you still have the absurd notion that you’re going to save Nikolai. Well, there will be more specificity in my orders going forward to ensure that you comply.” She looked pointedly at Vika’s wrist.
Vika closed her eyes. She could already feel the cuff tightening, a precursor to the confines of her world narrowing.
“And furthermore,” Yuliana said, “you won’t use any magic at all unless explicitly commanded by Pasha or myself.”
Vika’s eyes flew open. “What? No! Why?”
Yuliana smirked.
But it was Pasha who answered. “I’m sorry, Vika. It’s for the empire, though.”
“Do you know what reports came into the Imperial Council this morning?” Yuliana asked, or, more accurately, accused.
But of course Vika didn’t know. She’d been a touch busy here at the fortress.
Yuliana didn’t wait for a response. “Farther south, peasants are beginning to refuse to go near the Volga River. There are tales of a monster—half catfish, half man—who will snatch and drown anyone who dares draw water after dark. The peasants are mad with fear, and the region grows more unstable by the day.”
Vika gasped. It couldn’t be . . . but it sounded exactly like Vodyanoy, the fish king from the old Russian fables Ludmila used to tell when Vika was little. Vika wondered what other wild magic was waking up in Russia that they didn’t yet know about. Her stomach turned.
Pasha tried to put his hand on her arm, but she pulled away. He looked at the floor as he spoke. “The more magic the people see, the more they believe, and the greater the power that flows from Bolshebnoie Duplo. That’s good when you’re the one using magic for Russia. But it’s beginning to manifest itself in ways we can’t anticipate—whether that fish monster is real or not, the people believe it, and that’s what matters, at least for now.
“And then there’s Nikolai. The magic is terrifying when Nikolai is the one wielding its growing power. After the harm he’s caused our people and the attempts on my and Yuliana’s lives, it’s clear we need to stop him. If we can tell the people that magic is no more, Bolshebnoie Duplo’s power will decrease, and Nikolai will become more limited. And perhaps we can quell the irrational fear in the countryside.”
Vika shook her head. Her mouth curled into something that looked like a deranged smile, but it was panic, not happiness, that gave her the expression. It was as if her mouth didn’t quite know what to do. “You need me and my magic. You need me to be able to trap and stop Nikolai.”
“Yet it appears you cannot actually manage that,” Yuliana said. “This morning is further evidence that we need a different tactic. All this magic is causing more trouble than it solves.”
“And I’ll be safe,” Pasha said. “Your shield protects me.”
“Yes, but . . . but you told the people magic was good,” Vika said, grasping for arguments. “If you change your mind now, it will undermine you—”
“Vika.” Pasha planted his hands in his hair and pulled at the locks. “I truly am sorry. Yuliana and I have enough to deal with, though, with the food poisoning from Nikolai’s fete and the people’s now-hysterical distrust of magic. Besides the rumors of the fish monster, witch burnings are cropping up all over the countryside, and here in Saint Petersburg, there are rumors of revolt underfoot.
“The tsardom can’t be seen siding with your power except as a last resort. We’ll say we made a mistake. I’m young; the people will forgive me a misstep. But I have to do this, because I need to reestablish stability. You know I wouldn’t do this to you if I had a choice, right? It’s for the empire.”
Vika could only look from the double-eagled cuff to Pasha again.
“It’s not forever,” he said gently. “Just until we regain a semblance of calm and control. What we’ve been doing—allowing the existence of magic to be public knowledge—isn’t working, so I have to try something else. But if we really need your magic, if this strategy proves wrong, we’ll reinstate you right away.” He relinquished the tugging of his hair and reached a hand toward her.
But unlike earlier, when she’d allowed Pasha’s fingertips to nearly graze hers, this time Vika pulled away.
He couldn’t take away her magic, only enforce the prohibition; the bracelet would scorch her if she tried to disobey. But even though Pasha hadn’t taken her actual power away, Vika felt as if the constant sparks that had danced through her body ever since she was born had faded to the faint glow of dying embers. Her blood, which had always run hot, seemed to shift several degrees cooler. And the brash energy that ordinarily allowed Vika to command a room now dwindled, leaving her just another girl.
If she was a jinni, Pasha and Yuliana were her masters. And they had just stuffed her back inside a bottle that was markedly too small.