The guard froze. “Uh . . .”
Was he thinking that she’d just emerged from Pasha’s bed? But if so, what did it matter? Let them imagine what they would. This was important.
“I need to see the grand princess,” Vika said.
The other guard, also bearded but much younger, said, “It’s half past six, mademoiselle. The grand princess will have our heads if we wake her for some trifle.”
Vika glared at him. She had half a mind to magically toss these guards in the air and cast open Yuliana’s doors herself. But in a moment of extraordinary restraint (which she made note of to congratulate herself for later), Vika kept her magic and her temper tamped down and said, “This is not a trifle. And I guarantee the grand princess will have your heads if you do not wake her for it.”
The young guard looked to the older one. Perhaps it was the early hour, or perhaps it was the ferocity of Vika’s glare, but they nodded to each other.
The older guard knocked and slipped inside. She heard him apologize for the intrusion and announce her name to an attendant. A few seconds later, he reemerged and said, “The grand princess will see you now.”
He held open the door, and Vika strode inside. She paused for a moment, though, wondering if she’d come to the right place. The room was far from the tidy sanctuary she’d imagined Yuliana’s antechamber would be. Instead, piles of letters were strewn all over the floor, the mess evident even in dim candlelight.
Yuliana came in through another door that connected to her bedroom. She wore an elegant silk robe wrapped around her nightgown, and even in the early morning, every ringlet was in its place. Now that was more what Vika expected. In fact, it was likely that Yuliana hadn’t been asleep at all, but wide awake and hard at work on something.
There was a reason Vika had chosen to come see Yuliana, rather than Pasha, when she learned that Aizhana had killed the tsar. (Besides the fact that Pasha was still recovering from Nikolai’s attack.)
“Is something wrong with Pasha? I checked on him an hour ago, and he was sleeping peacefully.” Yuliana sat in the only seat not covered in stacks of paper, the chair at her desk.
“No, no. He’s fine.”
“Oh. Then what is it?” Yuliana said, even more blunt than usual. Which was almost forgivable, given the time.
Vika stood in the middle of the antechamber, because she hadn’t been invited to sit. Not that there was any open place to sit. She did, however, charm several more lamps to light. Her news was too grim to be delivered in the dark.
“Your father didn’t die of typhus,” she said. “He was murdered.”
Yuliana didn’t flinch. Growing up in the imperial family probably involved frequent assassination plots against her father. “By whom?” she asked.
There was a twist in Vika’s chest, like the plunging of a phantom dagger. Was she betraying Nikolai by revealing this? But she could not be sure whether he’d been complicit. Besides, Yuliana already hated Nikolai. One more thing would not make much difference.
“Aizhana Karimova. She’s apparently Nikolai’s mother.”
“Hmm.” Yuliana straightened the ribbon on her robe. “And how do you know this?”
“Nikolai told me. But he had no knowledge of or part in it,” she added hastily. “And I’ve taken care of him.”
Yuliana rose. “How?”
“I confined him,” Vika said as unfeelingly as possible, even though leaving Nikolai imprisoned had felt like harpooning her own heart—it hurt terribly, especially since she was still tethered to him, the rope jerking at the harpoon’s barbs embedded inside her. “I trapped him in an egg.”
Of course, Yuliana didn’t flinch. Again. She wasn’t human; she was iron in the shape of a girl.
“Fine,” she said. “Leave him for now. Arrest his mother. We’ll hang her later this morning.”
Vika’s mouth fell open. “I beg your pardon?”
“Has the work of being Imperial Enchanter taken a toll on your hearing?”
“No, I just . . . isn’t she supposed to have a trial?”
Yuliana crossed her arms. “The tsar is dead. The murderer is mother to the enchanter trying to destroy my brother. There is talk of treason and revolt underfoot. So no, I think we shall bypass a ‘fair trial’ and simply execute her. There are times when justice takes the form of swift action. That time is now.”
“But—”
“If you wanted mercy, you would have gone to Pasha with this information. But you came to me, so don’t grow cowardly now, Vika. Tell my guards outside to have the gallows prepared. Arrest Aizhana and keep watch on her until the hanging in the morning.”
Vika stood in the middle of the anteroom. Imperial Enchanter . . . I ought to be dubbed Imperial Jailer.
Or Jailer of Karimovs.
For a second, she thought of what Nikolai had offered: if he were tsar, she wouldn’t have to do what Yuliana or Pasha said. I could be tsarina, and Nikolai and I could rule Russia together, with magic in the open and no one to challenge or defy us.
Vika inhaled sharply. She could be a jinni, unleashed, no longer confined to the walls of a bottle. Magic sparked inside her, exploding like miniature fireworks, and without meaning to, she started to levitate.
But then Yuliana tapped her slipper on the floor, and the bracelet heated around Vika’s wrist.
Vika snapped out of it and landed back on the ground.
“What are you waiting for?” Yuliana asked, although it was clear she did not want an answer.
Vika answered anyway. “For the day I can create my own destiny.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t worry. Today is not yet that day.” Vika shook her head to rid herself of the tainted thoughts of ruling the empire. For what Nikolai offered was not what she wanted, not the way she wanted to forge her fate. She wasn’t convinced it was what he truly wanted, either. The magic inside her actually sparked again, as if in agreement.
So Vika gritted her teeth, because there was a more immediate task at hand. Nikolai had been captured. Now his mother needed to be arrested as well. And then perhaps they could resolve this and bring the city some peace.
At least, that was the plan.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Vika returned to the Black Moth, but as expected, Aizhana had fled. There was, however, a lopsided set of footprints in the snow, as if one of her feet was heavier or slower than the other.
Vika followed the trail. She was well trained in tracking injured animals, healing them often involved finding them first. Then again, the way Aizhana had sprung at the window of the Black Moth when Vika had come for Nikolai indicated that Aizhana was no wounded creature. But at least her uneven steps made her easier to trace.