Page 93 of The Crown's Game
“Perhaps. But what else have you hidden from me?”
“Nothing!” Nikolai slapped the table.
“Did you befriend me for your own ambitions, to become closer to the tsar so you could win the Game?” Pasha’s ordinarily angelic face contorted into something uglier. Something harsher. Something that looked like his father or his sister.
“No. I didn’t even know the details of the Game until a month ago.”
“Did you enjoy listening to me ramble about mysticism, then laugh behind my back?”
“I would never.”
“And what about Vika? How will you finish the Game? Will you kill her so you can be victorious, so you can finally be somebody?”
“No! Pasha, what are you saying?” Nikolai jumped from his seat. “I could never hurt her, I love her, too.”
“You what?” Pasha’s mouth hung open.
Damn. Was it true? Renata had accused him of falling for Vika, but Nikolai hadn’t fully admitted it to himself until now. Not actually being in love. The confession left him feeling both as if the floor had been pulled out from under him and, at the same time, made more firm.
The two boys glared at each other from opposite sides of the booth. Anywhere else, their argument would have attracted attention. But in the tavern, it was business as usual. At a nearby table, another bottle smashed against the wall and the men there began to yell.
“I love her, too,” Nikolai said quietly as he sank back into his seat.
Pasha, however, did not sit. He towered over Nikolai. “So you lied to me about that as well.”
Nikolai could do nothing but nod. He could argue that it was an omission, not a lie, but such technicalities shouldn’t matter between friends. It was deception nonetheless. One of so many deceptions.
Pasha scowled. “You were the one who said I couldn’t love Vika, because I hardly knew her. How is it possible, then, for you to love her? Do you know her so much better than I?”
“It’s different. We’re enchanters.”
“And what is that supposed to mean? That you’re somehow better than me because of it?”
“No! Just . . . we understand each other. There’s no one else like us.”
“So if we are only to fall in love with someone exactly like ourselves, I suppose that means I need to find a woman who is in line to inherit an empire, who has also been betrayed by her best friend.”
Nikolai wilted on the table.
“I could have my Guard arrest you, you know. I could accuse you of kidnapping me tonight. I could have a firing squad on you by morning.”
“I know you could.”
“I could, but I won’t, because in another version of this life, you were my best friend. And I wouldn’t want that boy’s blood on my hands.”
“Pasha—”
“Why do you have to steal Vika?”
Nikolai sat up again. “What? I’m not. I said I love her, not that she loves me.”
“She’d choose you over me, though. You’ve always had everything, and now you have to take Vika, too.” Pasha stabbed a knife into the center of the loaf of bread.
Nikolai yanked the knife out. “How could you possibly believe that? You’re the one who has everything. I’m an orphan with not a drop of noble blood in my veins and not a ruble or kopek to my name. All I have is my magic, and all that’s going to lead me to is death.”
“Not true. Do you not see what you have, Nikolai? You’re better than everyone at everything, and you don’t even try. You’re a better dancer, a better swordsman, a better scholar. Girls fall at your feet, and you don’t seem to care. You excel at everything, whereas I’m only adequate. The only thing I’ve got is that I was born to be heir.”
“You’re more than that.” Nikolai dropped the knife on the table.
