Page 15 of The Crown's Fate
“No! Leave me. I want to be alone.”
Renata’s mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. Possibly because her ability to speak had already returned to the other side of the bench.
But more likely because she didn’t actually say a thing. For when she had disappeared completely, she did not return.
Nikolai looked at the empty space where she’d been. “Thank you,” he said. He had truly meant it when he said he wanted to be alone. And Renata had understood that.
He walked a few paces in the direction of the mountain, the only thing left besides the grass here on this illusory steppe. Then Nikolai fell to his knees and bowed forwarduntil his head pressed against the dirt. His hat tumbled off. A single despondent sob racked his shadowed body.
The long grass cut tiny scratches in his skin, as the wind whipped the blades at his face. He was not whole, and yet he could still be wounded. And the barrenness of the plains stretched into an empty, blurred horizon, promising an eternity of loneliness and confinement and misery.
“I’ll find another way,” Nikolai said. “Because, devil take me, I cannot stay here.”
CHAPTER NINE
At the same time, Pasha was walking through the center of the ballroom, where Vika’s Kazakh dome had been set up behind locked doors so the palace servants wouldn’t stumble upon the magical scene. He shook his head as he and his sister, Yuliana, wove in and out of the marketplace stalls for the umpteenth time this morning, listening to the conversations for any hint about a threatened rebellion against the Russians.
“There’s nothing in here about Qasim or his revolt,” Pasha said.
Yuliana crossed her arms and kicked the edge of the dome. “Vika didn’t do her job.”
“Actually, she did what we asked of her, only you’re frustrated it didn’t turn out as you’d hoped.” Pasha winked, a small dose of teasing to ease the truth. “Perhaps there’s no information because there’s nothing happening in that part of the empire right now. Have you considered that you might be looking for trouble where it doesn’t exist?”
“Looking for trouble where it supposedly doesn’t exist is precisely what a good tsar needs to do. If you see it only when it’s obvious, then it’s already too late.”
Pasha’s stomach plummeted, and he stopped midstride next to a vendor selling silver earrings. Here it was again, the truth that he was not ready or fit to be tsar, that his sister was the one really keeping the empire afloat. Pasha’s major accomplishments for the day only included shaving (finally) and turning up in this ballroom when he was supposed to.
Yuliana cut across the dome to his side. “Mon frère, I didn’t mean to imply—”
Pasha held up a hand. “It’s fine. You spoke the truth.”
“It’s a particular flaw of mine.”
“No, it’s a relief to know you’ll tell me what’s real rather than kowtowing at my feet like everyone else in this palace. It’s a relief someone capable will be by my side to care for the empire.”
“You’re more than capable,” Yuliana said. “You have remarkable instincts about people. I’m good with hard facts and figures. We simply have different strengths.” She stood on her toes and pecked Pasha on the cheek.
“Do you think so?” he asked.
“I know so.” She smiled, which she did so rarely that it made the gesture worth all the more. Pasha’s stomach settled. Mostly.
“On that note,” he said, “I actually have another meeting to attend.”
Yuliana quirked a brow. “With whom?”
“Major General Volkonsky. He requested an audience.”
“Do you—”
“No, I can handle it,” Pasha said, for he already knew what his sister was about to offer. “Besides, it will give you more time to go through this dome at your leisure.”
Yuliana looked around the Kazakh marketplace, which had restarted itself from the beginning of the scene Vika captured. The conversations were commencing again, like actors rehearsing from the top of a play.
There really was nothing here.But Yuliana won’t let it go until she’s been through it a dozen times more,Pasha thought. He knew his sister well.
Just as Yuliana knew him. She nodded, agreeing to let him see Volkonsky on his own, because she understood that this was something Pasha needed to do to prove his capability to himself.
He gave her a cursory smile—although he was sure she could see his anxiety, only thinly veiled—and hurried out of the ballroom.
