Page 103 of The Crown's Fate
“I want light artillery there”—Pasha pointed to a spot in front of one of the infantry units, facing Peter the Great—“and here,” he said, indicating a line to shield where he and his horse currently stood. They would be able to see the Decembrists from this vantage point but remain protected by several regiments of infantry, along with the light artillery.
“Cavalry will ride to flank the rebels,” Pasha said. “I want the Decembrists to have to lookupat us.”
The officers and their soldiers marched off to their places. Vika looked from Pasha to the square and back to Pasha again. “Very impressive, Your Imperial Highness.”
Pasha gave her a curt nod, a serious commander of troops. But a smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
“Count Miloradovich, where are you?” Pasha asked.
The count, a war hero who, like Obolensky and Volkonsky, was admired by the troops, hurried to Pasha and saluted.
“Speak with Obolensky,” Pasha said. “And if possible, address the men. They can still change their minds. I will let them walk away.”
On his right, Yuliana snorted in disapproval. Pasha ignored her.
“Yes, sir,” Miloradovich said. He saluted again, then marched toward the rebels’ formations in the center of the square.
Pasha turned to Vika. “Is Nikolai here?”
She could feel the tug at her chest as she scanned the square. “I don’t see him, but I feel him. Even if I couldn’t, I know he’d be here. The Decembrists mean to put him on the throne. That means they are Nikolai’s men. And Nikolai is not the sort to stand aside and leave the unhappy work to others. So yes. Nikolai is here.” Her heart beat faster, remembering the mazurka in the volcano dream. If only this scene were a dream, too.
Pasha began to run his hand through his hair but stopped, as if he’d suddenly remembered he was being watched by thousands of his men.
“Kill Nikolai,” Yuliana said to Vika.
Vika took in a sharp breath of air, and everything inside her flipped upside down. Of course she knew it was more than a possibility that she would have to hurt Nikolai, perhaps even kill him, but a possibility was far different from a direct order spoken aloud. Especially since the cuff would enforce it.
Pasha steadied his horse beside her. He was a shade paler than usual. “Don’t—”
“Pasha.” Yuliana whipped her head around to glare at him. “You tried to show leniency last time by having Vika capture him. But Nikolai escaped the egg and tried to kill you again. We cannot count on being able to capture and contain him this time.”
Pasha swallowed hard but nodded. “Vika, find Nikolai and ...” His voice cracked. “Well, you heard Yuliana.”
Everything inside Vika remained upside down. Her pulse throbbed inside her.
In the middle of the square, Miloradovich spoke to Obolensky. The men puffed out their chests and stood with legs anchored wide. Hot clouds billowed where their breaths met the winter air. The discussion did not appear at all friendly.
Vika’s horse shifted beneath her.
“Have you located Nikolai?” Yuliana asked.
Vika had to do it. She had chosen Pasha’s side, and not just because a bracelet burned her. But she would try her best to do thisherway. She could at least have that much integrity.
“I’m narrowing it down.” Vika concentrated on the far right of the Decembrists’ formation, where the air seemed to be disturbed not by weather, but by magic.
Miloradovich spun away from Obolensky and climbed up onto the Thunder Stone. “Listen, my fellow soldiers—”
A shot rang out before he had a chance to finish the sentence. Soldiers yelled. Miloradovich toppled to the ground.
Obolensky reacted immediately, unsheathing his sword and holding it above him so it glinted in the early morning light. Then he ran it through Miloradovich’s body.
“Oh, mercy,” Vika said.
“Murder!” “Treason!” Pasha’s troops shouted in shock.
The Decembrists began to yell too and drew their weapons.
The sudden outburst surprised the horses in Pasha’s cavalry, and they jostled against one another while shrieking. Their riders tried to calm them.
