The Crown's Game (The Crown's Game, #1)(95)

“Ludmila!” Vika flew to the bars.

Nikolai leaped back from Renata’s cell. “Vika . . . you’re here.”

She ignored him.

“Ludmila, who did this? We—I—have to set you free.”

“Hush, sunshine.” Ludmila stretched through the bars and patted Vika’s arm. “Leave me be. The grand princess guaranteed our release at the conclusion of the duel.”

“But you—”

“I’m fine. You must play the Game.”

Vika shook the bars. But then her arms gave out and she pressed against the cage. “I’m sorry I never told you about the Game, Ludmila. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I understand. I would have done the same.”

“I’m even sorrier that you were swept up in it.”

“No need for apologies, dear. Besides, there is no time.” Ludmila pointed behind Vika. “The sun is rising.”

Vika glanced over her shoulder. The sky had turned reddish orange, like a reverse image of the blood moon from the night. And with the sun hanging above the frozen water, the duel had officially begun.

It was Nikolai’s move. Vika whirled around and pressed her back against Ludmila’s cage so her friend would not be exposed.

“I won’t strike when you’re not looking,” Nikolai said quietly. “And I propose we go elsewhere on the island. I think it better if Madame Fanina and Renata were not forced to watch. Meet me at Candlestick Point when you’re finished saying your good-byes?”

Inside, Vika wilted, but outside, she merely nodded. No one before had called the peninsula at the northern tip of the island Candlestick Point, but she knew immediately what Nikolai meant. She had left Candlestick Point undeveloped when she created the island, hoping one of them would take advantage of the open space for an enchantment. Now it appeared it would be used as the field on which one of them died.

Nikolai bowed to both Vika and Ludmila. Renata squeezed his hand once more, and then he spun on his heel and strode away, as if he couldn’t get away from the cages—and to Candlestick Point—fast enough. He didn’t give even a passing glance to his benches.

“You should go, my dear,” Ludmila said to Vika. “I hope for your sake it ends quickly.”

“As do I. And I also wish it would never end.” Vika’s shoulders sagged.

Ludmila sighed and looped her arms around Vika, pulling her into the bars for an embrace. “I may not be your mother, but like Sergei, I have watched you grow, and I consider you my own. You are strong and smart, and however this Game ends, know that you will have done me and Sergei proud. You are a wonder, Vika. I’m blessed to have had you in my life.” Ludmila sniffled, and Vika held her as tight as she could.

Then Ludmila released her and retreated into the middle of her cage. “Now go. Your fate awaits. I cannot keep you from it any longer.”

Renata leaned against her bars. “Be brave,” she said. “Both you and Nikolai.”

Vika blinked back tears and nodded. Then she, like Nikolai, hurried away. She understood now that it was impossible to leave any other way.

He waited for her at the end of Candlestick Point, his back to her, looking out onto the unmoving bay. His dark figure cut against the dawn light, an ominous silhouette from his top hat down to the sharp toe of his boot. Vika’s feet hardly touched the gravel as she approached, but they still stirred the air around her, and it was inconceivable that Nikolai would not have heard. Yet he did not acknowledge her until she was only a few yards away.

Nikolai turned to face her. The knife Galina had given him rested in his gloved hand.

Vika put up a double shield. Unlike Nikolai, she hadn’t put on her gloves this morning, improper as that might be. They had never before impeded her magic, but she was not taking any chances today.

“How have you been?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Vika narrowed her eyes. Was he actually trying to have a conversation, right here, right now? Or was it a deceptive ploy? She kept her distance. “You saw me yesterday in the palace.”

“You ran away before we had a chance to talk. That hardly counts as seeing you.”

“I did not run, I glided away in a sled. And I did not want to talk.”

He gave her a wry smile. It might have been charming if it weren’t for the dagger he twirled in his hands. “I missed you,” he said. Then he corrected himself. “I missed your enchantments.”

The image of him kissing Renata flashed in Vika’s mind. “It was your move.”

“I was waiting for inspiration. But then Pasha changed the Game, and I had to hold on to my turn.” Nikolai clawed distractedly at the collar of his shirt, where the brand must have been searing into his skin. “But what I wanted to say, and did not get a chance to, was that I am sorry to hear about your father’s passing.”

Vika was dizzy with the conversation. Nikolai hadn’t even mentioned that she’d destroyed all his possessions. Were they enemies fighting a duel? Or were they friends making up for lost time? She didn’t know whether to protect herself or open up to him. “Um, thank you. But it turns out Sergei was not my father.”

“Oh . . . I’m sorry . . . that must have been quite a shock.”

Shock is a mighty understatement.