“Vika?”

“I’m on the outside. I’ve sealed you in, which also means I can’t enter, or I’d risk a breach in the enchantment and you could escape. You are under arrest for attempting to kill the tsesarevich.”

Oh. How foolish to think this was merely a dream.

Nikolai let out a long breath. Then he cast a charm that allowed him to see through the walls.

The sun was not yet up—it did not rise till rather late in the morning in winter—but there was enough moonlight. . . .

And there she was, her hand and forehead pressed against the other side of the curved wall, her eyes closed. Vika didn’t look angry, though, as her words had suggested. Was she tired? Frustrated? Resigned? Nikolai couldn’t tell.

He crossed the room. He stood only inches from the wall and placed his hand against it, so that it lined up with Vika’s, palm to palm, his shadow fingers longer and slightly curled as if they could cup over the tips of hers. She wouldn’t know; seeing through obstacles was Nikolai’s forte, not hers.

He wasn’t happy that she had trapped him. But then again, she’d captured his heart long ago, so he’d already been her prisoner anyway.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“In an egg.”

“In an egg?” Nikolai laughed despite himself.

Vika laughed a little, too. A sad laugh, but it was something. “A raspisnoye yaitso. A giant one.”

“I can see that.” He glanced up. The fact that this was an egg certainly explained the arch of the walls and the ceiling. As well as the blue and white paint. There was also a long streak of gold that began in the parlor and probably ran along the entire side of the egg. He’d have to look later. And if Vika’s enchantment was strong—which Nikolai did not doubt—he’d have plenty of time. “A painted egg . . . It’s an interesting choice for a jail cell.”

Outside, Vika bit her lip but didn’t respond. Behind her, a gray stone pillar rose into the sky, and beyond that, the ice of the Neva. Nikolai’s mouth set in a thin line as he recognized where they stood. Enchanter against enchantress again, at Candlestick Point.

“An interesting choice of location, too,” he said.

Vika opened her eyes. “You can see through the shell.”

“Yes.”

“How silly of me, of course you can. I’m sorry. . . . There was nowhere else to put you.”

“Fitting, I suppose.” Nikolai wanted to pound his fist against the wall, but then he’d scare her away. Why couldn’t they be together? Why was there always something between them? And why was that something always the tsar’s game or the tsesarevich’s actions? Clearly, the tsardom is the problem. Or, more precisely, the ones who have been wearing the crown. It would be different when Nikolai was on the throne.

“Nikolai?”

He blinked.

“Nikolai.”

He blinked again. “Pardon?”

Vika pressed even closer against the outside of the eggshell. The corners of her mouth turned slightly down. “Why are you doing all this? What’s happened to you?”

He sighed, the adrenaline of a moment ago now gone as Vika pulled him back to the present. What had happened to him? There was no adequate answer.

“You tried to kill Pasha. Please, stop. Find a way to make amends, however you can. Don’t you care about us at all anymore?”

Nikolai crossed his arms. “How could you be with Pasha after what he did?”

“What do you mean, ‘with Pasha’?”

“The end of the Game . . . I—I just don’t understand. You should be with me, trying to destroy him.”

Vika shook her head vehemently. “No, I shouldn’t. Besides, you don’t know the whole story.”

“Then tell me.”

Vika yanked off her glove, pulled up the sleeve of her coat, and held her arm up against the outside of the egg. An intricate cuff of gold vines encircled her wrist. The double-headed Romanov eagle was affixed to it, its ruby eyes on her like a guard. Not a guard to protect her, though. A guard to watch her. It did not seem like a gift for a beloved, as Renata had thought.

“What is that?” Nikolai whispered.

“Ownership,” Vika said. “I’m bound to serve the tsardom.”

“So you’re not together.”

Vika snorted. “You thought I was betrothed to Pasha? I hated him after the Game, Nikolai. I suffered from it, too, you know. But since then, I’ve come to understand Pasha and his actions a little more. Like me, he made horrible decisions in reaction to grief. But he regrets it, and because of that, I’ve forgiven him. But promised in marriage? No. The only way I belong to him is through the vow I made at Bolshebnoie Duplo. As Imperial Enchanter, if I disobey the ruler of the empire, the bracelet burns me.”

Nikolai’s hand went to his left collarbone. He could still remember how it would scorch him. The phantom pain would likely haunt him his entire life. But Vika had a new mark that was anything but a ghost.

“If I became tsar,” Nikolai said, “you wouldn’t have to do Pasha and Yuliana’s bidding.” His voice grew louder as adrenaline began to rush through him again. “If I became tsar, it could be you and me together. Imagine how powerful we would be.”

Vika shook her head.

All right, then. Power did not appeal to her. “We could do so much for the Russian people, you and I. With more and more magic from Bolshebnoie Duplo, we could increase the harvests by tenfold, and no one would ever be hungry again. We could give everyone the finest coats so they wouldn’t die in winter anymore. And someday, our magic might be so great that we could cure all the disease in the empire.”

“You don’t have to be tsar to do that, Nikolai. We’re enchanters. If Bolshebnoie Duplo’s magic is strong enough, we could do those things anyway.”

“It would be more fun, though, if we were tsar and tsarina.”

“Fun?” Vika threw her arms up. “You’ve attempted murder of the tsesarevich and poisoned thousands of others. I may be bound to Pasha, but it’s as if you’re bound by something else, too.”

Nikolai laughed. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps being a shadow was changing him.

Vika bit her lip again. “Nikolai . . . Tell me how to help you. Is there something else controlling you? Who—or what—was that at the Black Moth with you?”