Page 98 of The Crown's Game
“Pasha wants to see me?”
“Not for a hand of cards. Official business.”
Nikolai crumbled inside. He had been so focused on his falling-out with Pasha, and then with the death of the tsar and tsarina, that he hadn’t thought through the implications of the Game.
If Pasha was going to be tsar, then he would also inherit the role of final arbiter of the Game. He would be the one to decide if Vika and Nikolai lived or died.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Pasha strode down the hallway of the Winter Palace toward his mother’s former audience room. They were the same chambers in which he’d caught his breath during the ball, but today’s purpose would be far different. Then, he’d just been an heir, training for a seemingly distant future. But now that future had come. There would be no hiding to catch his breath today.
Yuliana marched beside him, and the Tsar’s Guard followed close behind. That was another difference to which Pasha would have to grow accustomed. He’d kept on a couple of his own men—Gavriil, his captain, and Ilya, the one with a knack for sensing where Pasha went when he needed to get away—but otherwise, these guards were his father’s men. It made it even more clear that Pasha’s life had drastically changed.
“Are you ready?” Yuliana asked, tilting her head at the wooden chest that Ilya carried behind them. The Russe Quill and Scroll had come back to Saint Petersburg with the rest of their father’s and mother’s personal effects. Immediately, Yuliana had urged Pasha to conclude the Game. There was too much unrest in the empire, and their enemies would take advantage of the transition in the tsardom if Pasha was not strong. He needed an Imperial Enchanter now.
“I’m ready.” Pasha smiled on the outside. But on the inside, he laughed cruelly—sadly—at himself. How could he ever be ready to sentence people to their deaths? Especially people he’d once loved? For that was what he was about to do: demand the end of the Game, and in so doing, command either Nikolai’s or Vika’s death. If only his heart were made of stone rather than quivering humanity.
Yuliana touched him gently on his sleeve, as if she knew his smile was mere deception. But of course she knew. She was his sister, who knew all his flaws. She was his strength where he was weak. “I will be right there beside you,” Yuliana said. “Remember, this is for something greater than the two enchanters. This is for Russia.”
Pasha swallowed and nodded. And as they continued their march down the hall, he repeated it to himself. This is for Russia. This is no longer only about me.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Vika arrived at the Winter Palace alone.
She had expected an opulent throne room, or perhaps a grand hall like the one that had hosted the masquerade. But instead, the guard escorted her to a small chamber with lilac walls and unembellished cream drapes, the room bare of furniture except for a desk and a few simple chairs. Vika relaxed a little. The unpretentious grace of the room seemed more like Pasha than a massive hall lined with red and gold and double-headed eagles along the walls.
Nikolai and Galina Zakrevskaya were already there. Neither of them sat, but rather stood several feet apart, as if it were unbearable for them to stand any closer together.
As Vika entered, Nikolai gave her a cursory bow. She had desecrated his home, and she knew she deserved not even a nod of acknowledgment. It was all she could do not to fly across the room and beg his forgiveness.
Then another guard entered the room. He cleared his throat and announced, “The Tsesarevich Pavel Alexandrovich Romanov, and the Grand Princess Yuliana Alexandrovna Romanova.”
As they all bowed and curtsied, Pasha marched in and stood behind the desk. He did not sit, and he didn’t command them to sit either. The grand princess followed, although she halted on the side of the room and hovered by the window. Then a young guard appeared carrying a chest, the same one from the ceremony at Bolshebnoie Duplo. He set it down heavily on top of the desk. Their stiff formality would have suited an official throne room after all.
“You may all leave,” Pasha said to the guards stationed around the room. He sounded less like himself and more like . . . his father. Vika shivered. The guards obeyed silently and closed the doors behind them. No doubt they positioned themselves immediately outside.
“I believe we all know why we’re here.” Pasha glanced at his sister, then pressed his fingers to the chest and lifted the lid. As he did so, the Russe Quill and Scroll floated out.
Vika noticed that Pasha did not look at her. It was as if he didn’t know her either. Had she imagined the past two months? The dancing at the masquerade, the near kiss in the maple grove, the carriage ride after her father’s death? Everyone had forsaken her.
“The Scroll is where the tsar declares a winner,” Pasha continued. “Although I am not officially tsar, I will be soon, and I will need an Imperial Enchanter. But I would rather not have to choose between you. Therefore, I would like you to conclude the Game.” He paused, as if waiting to see if anyone would interrupt him. As if testing out his new power. Vika had interrupted the tsar once upon a time, during the oath that seemed so long ago. But the sternness on Pasha’s face frightened her more than the tsar ever had, perhaps because the austerity was so foreign to Pasha that Vika didn’t know what it meant or what to expect. So she kept still and very quiet.
“I propose a classic duel to determine the winner,” Pasha said.
“What do you mean, a classic duel?” Nikolai’s eyes narrowed.
“A fight à l’outrance, to the death.” Icicles hung off Pasha’s voice. “A display of your skills in what this Game was supposed to be: a demonstration of which of you is better fit for the position of Imperial Enchanter. Who will help me strategize against the Ottomans? Who can put down the uprisings on the steppe? Who is not afraid to risk life to protect the empire?”
“You don’t have to be a warmonger,” Nikolai said.
“I am going to be tsar.”
“The title doesn’t matter.” Nikolai took a step toward him. “It’s what you do that defines you, Pasha.”
The grand princess cleared her throat.
“You will address me as Your Imperial Highness,” Pasha said to Nikolai. “And I will remind you that you are not my adviser yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself, enchanter.”
