Page 19 of The Crown's Fate
Had that been Pasha’s hope all along? That by forcing the end of the Game, Vika would prevail? She’d been the stronger of the two enchanters. And with Nikolai out of the way, Pasha would be able to swoop in on Vika, taking advantage of her grief.
Damn you, Pasha.Damn you to the ninth circle of hell.
Nikolai shivered, but the chill simultaneously steeled his muscles.
And then a new idea pushed its way forth, growing quickly, like fractals of ice on a frozen windowpane. If he escaped from this dream—this nightmare—he could make Pasha suffer. He could claim the crown for himself.
But a spark of light within Nikolai pushed back.I once loved Pasha, and he loved me... .
And yet men declared duels for insults far less than what Pasha had committed. So why shouldn’t he suffer consequences for his actions? Dante’s ninth circle was too good for a traitor like him.
I deserve to be tsar as much as Pasha does.
And as the idea of wearing the crown settled into Nikolai’s mind ... there it was. Magic. Like a cold flame, flickering inside him. He seized it and felt it swell.
“Yes ...” Magic had not forsaken him! It had not abandoned him because he’d lost the Game.
His golden eagle landed beside him in the grass and nodded at him.
“You’re right,” Nikolai said. “I need to go.”
He did not take in his surroundings one last time. He did not bid them farewell. For if he never saw this steppe dream again, it would be too soon.
“Wake me up,” Nikolai whispered.
The stars above him blurred, like specks of salt dissolving into the imaginary night. The scent of grass was replaced by the smell of maple candy and oak.
He was still a shadow, but it didn’t matter. He was sitting on a bench on an island in the middle of the Neva.
Sitting, firmly rooted, in reality.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As night settled in, a sparrow pecked at Pasha’s antechamber window at the Winter Palace. Pasha frowned from where he sat in his armchair. “What is this?” he said as he rose and crossed the room.
He slid the window open, and a gust of snow blew in. The bird darted in as well. It flew so fast, it nearly clipped Pasha across the nose.“Zut alors!”He jerked out of the way.
The sparrow careened across the antechamber and smashed itself into the opposite wall. The bird shattered on impact, and Pasha cried out again. But it wasn’t a live bird at all; it was made of stone. Shards of sharp gray rock rained down onto the burgundy rug.
A small, rolled sheet of paper tied with a black ribbon lay in the bird’s remains.
Pasha walked slowly across the rug to retrieve it. He brushed away the rock dust and untied the ribbon.
The paper leaped from his hand and flew into the air,unrolling itself in the process. It floated directly at eye level so Pasha could read.
Meet me at the statue of Peter the Great at midnight.
The handwriting was ornately elegant yet as precise as a British timepiece. Pasha staggered and braced himself against the wall. He inadvertently crushed the letter in his hand.
It was from Nikolai.
Pasha’s knees gave out, and he crumbled to the rug like rock dust.
Nikolai is alive.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Vika lay in bed, her dream about Nikolai hovering over her like an uninvited ghost. She’d been awake several minutes now, but she could still feel it, his knife in her chest, his greedy, tragic claim on some of the magic.
