Page 47 of The Crown's Fate
Vika shrugged.
“You’re terribly nonchalant,” Pasha said. “It’s as if you do this every day.” He laughed, but it was flatter than usual, weighed down, most likely, by why it had been necessary to save him in the first place. Then he stopped laughing altogether and held on to his stomach. Magic might have put his pieces back together, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t feel the aftereffects, like a patient after surgery. Pasha managed to shoot Vika a smile, though, through the pain.
Vika smiled, too. It was nearly impossible not to in reaction to his charm. Plus, without the blankets covering him,she could see the ripples of muscle on his chest and abdomen. She tried not to stare. “I’d rather not have to stitch you back together every day. It’s not exactly easy, and I can’t guarantee it’ll work every time. So if you don’t mind, try not to get yourself almost killed again, all right?”
“I’ll try,” he said. “But I must warn you that tsars are often high on assassination target lists.”
“Good thing you’re not tsar yet, then.”
As soon as she said it, Vika wanted to take it back.Really?she chastised herself.You said that in the midst of everything that’s happening?
Pasha let out a curt laugh. “Right. Good thing I’m not yet tsar.”
I am an idiot,Vika thought.
Pasha brushed his fingers over the place where Vika had extracted Nikolai’s gear. Once. Twice. Three times.
“I’m sorry about what I just said.” Vika couldn’t take her eyes off Pasha’s fingers, still tracing and retracing where his brother had wounded him. “But I’ve been thinking. I ought to protect you better.”
Pasha shook his head. “You saved me. There’s not much better than that.”
“No, I meant a permanent shield, which I’d thought before was impossible, because that sort of magic requires a great deal of power and, therefore, proximity. But now that Bolshebnoie Duplo is generating more magic than ever before ...”
“You might be able to do it.” His fingers ceased their obsessive tracing.
“Might.I’ll try, but that doesn’t mean you can toss caution to the wind. It’s possible it won’t work, and we won’tknow until Nikolai tries to harm you again.”
Pasha cringed. Vika did, too, for she had said it as if another attack by Nikolai was inevitable. She and Pasha both knew it to be true, even if they didn’t want it to be.
“Do I need to, um, do anything?” he asked.
“No, just sit still.”
Vika stood from her chair but took a second to breathe and feel the magic sparking inside her. It brightened even more as she called to it, so much so that she almost felt there was a torch within. She welcomed its eager flames—she was, in this moment, pleased that magic was no longer secret, that the people’s belief had stoked more power for her to use—and then she focused on Pasha, outlined the space around him with her eyes, and conjured an invisible shield around him.
She imagined it as a soft, flexible material, one that would not repel bullets or enchantments but rather, would absorb them until she could dispel them safely. It seemed a better approach than conjuring a rigid barrier like a more traditional shield, for something like that could potentially shatter.
Then again, all this was theory. Vika didn’t even know if this enchantment would hold.
She stumbled a bit when she finished. Conjuring a shield that strong, and to last indefinitely, had taken more out of her than she expected.
“Sit and rest,” Pasha said, as he patted the edge of the mattress. “And thank you.”
Vika eyed the spot where Pasha’s hand lay. Heat flashed through her again, but not from magic this time. It would be incredibly improper to sit onanyboy’s bed, butespecially the future tsar’s. Not that Vika hadn’t already been ridiculously close when she’d healed him. Nor had she ever been constrained by propriety before. But still. This seemed different. Perhaps she was growing up and becoming more responsible. Perhaps she was learning to play by the rules.
Oh, please.Vika scowled at herself.As if Ieverwant to be the sort who plays by the rules.
She sank onto the edge of Pasha’s bed. She did, however, sit closer to his feet than his hand, and she kept both her own feet firmly planted on the ground. She was an Imperial Enchanter and a baroness, after all.
Pasha retracted his hand and frowned. “I wasn’t going to do anything untoward.”
“I know,” Vika said, even though she didn’t. Or maybe she was worried thatshewould be the one to do something untoward, so great was her relief that Pasha was all right, and that her attempt to heal him had actually worked. Even though she was no longer angry at him, and even though she could no longer love Nikolai—not as Nikolai was—Vika would not allow herself to fall into someone else’s arms, simply because they were open. She didn’t say all that, though. Instead, she asked, “What if Yuliana came in and thought there was something inappropriate going on?”
“I didn’t know you cared what others thought.”
“I don’t.” Vika crossed her arms. But then she dropped them to her sides, onto the blankets. “Well, sometimes I do.”
Pasha smiled. “All right, sit far away if it makes you feel better.” He had the grace not to rub it in that Vika had been acting, well, self-important.Just because he wanted to kiss me once, on Letniy Isle, doesn’t mean he always wants to kiss me whenwe’re alone,she thought.Or that he even wants to kiss me at all, after the nasty things I’ve said.
