Luckily, I’m not alone for long. “There you are!” Vladimir bounds from a side hallway to fall into step with me; despite the late night and all the champagne he must have had, he glows with energy. “Feeling better?”
“Mostly.” Smiling at Vladimir turns out to be completely natural. His easy stride and friendly grin charm me, and besides, the affection he feels for his sister is unmistakable. What would an adored little sister say at a moment like this? Let’s see. He went to a big party last night, right? Josie’s had her share of missed curfews and nights out—more than I have—so I say to him what I might have said to her: “What about you? I’m surprised you’re not under the covers whining and holding an ice pack to your head.”
Vladimir looks skyward and sighs melodramatically. “You’re never going to let me live that one down, are you?”
“Nope, never.” This bluffing thing is easier than I thought. I can’t help but grin.
He continues, “One night, I drink too many toasts with vodka, and once in my blameless, virtuous life, I wind up getting sick in a decorative urn. The price? My sister’s eternal condemnation.”
“Not condemnation. But eternal teasing? Definitely.”
At that, Vladimir laughs; his laughter is so much like Mom’s. So this is what it’s like to have a brother. I always wished for one, and Vladimir seems like exactly the brother I’d have wanted—protective, funny, and kind.
Which is the moment I feel a hard pinch on my arm.
“Ow!” I spin around to see Katya, who looks very satisfied with herself in her pink dress. I’d guess she’s about thirteen. Although she resembles the tsar more than the rest of us do, she still has the unruly Kovalenka curls. “What was that for?”
“For thinking I was too little to go to the ball. I showed you. Men danced with me all night!”
I glance at Vladimir for confirmation. He gives Katya a look. “Our little Kathy danced precisely four dances, one of them with me and two with her uncles. But one very nice officer did take her out on the floor, where she danced very well.”
Katya lifts her stubborn chin, as though she hadn’t been contradicted. With a shake of my head, I say, “They grow up so fast.”
“Where does the time go?” Vladimir agrees, joining in the old-and-superior act.
This wins us a scowl from Katya. “You’re not so big,” she says, and dashes past me—with the end of my sash in her hands. It unties and flutters to the carpet; she drops it as she runs ahead, laughing.
“Oh, honestly.” Is she always this irritating? This dimension’s Marguerite must hardly be able to stand her.
But something about the way Katya giggles reminds me of a time, several years ago, when I sneaked up behind Josie while she was on the phone and snatched her ponytail clip out of her hair. She had to chase me around the house for at least ten minutes before she caught me. Why did that seem like fun when I was nine? No clue. But it was awesome. I even jumped over the sofa at one point, and howled laughing when Josie tried to follow me over and instead wiped out and fell on the floor.
I remember Josie yelling, “Little sisters are the most annoying people on earth!” Chagrined, I realize she was right.
Paul steps in front of me and kneels to collect my sash; when he holds it out to me, he looks into my eyes like—like I’m not merely his responsibility. Like he knows me. Has he remembered his real self? My hopes rise for one quickened heartbeat, before I realize this is still Lieutenant Markov. He says only, “My lady.”
“Thank you, Markov.”
The words come out steadily enough, but it’s so strange, looking at Paul and seeing someone who is both him and not him.
Someone very like the man I always daydreamed Paul might be . . .
Vladimir doesn’t seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary between us. “Now that I see you’re back to yourself, I shall head down to the barracks,” he says as Paul steps behind me once more, and I hastily retie my sash. “Enjoy your lessons.”
“See you at supper.” Oh, crap, what if they don’t eat supper together? Or should I have said dinner? But it doesn’t look like I got it wrong, because Vladimir nods. I offer my cheek to him for a quick kiss; his mustache tickles my skin.
At the end of the hallway I discover a library—no, a schoolroom.
“Are you going to let me get a word in edgewise today?” Katya demands as she slides into one of the desks, which are all broad and grand, less like something out of a public school and more like something you’d see in an antiques store. “Or are you going to play teacher’s pet again? He’s supposed to be tutor to us all, not only you.”
“I’ll take turns,” I promise absently. Footsteps are coming down the hall, small and light.