They danced. And danced. And the Barsoi told Fox about an iron wolf and the flying carpets in the Tzar’s Magic Collection. He talked about the ice palaces of Yakutia, which the banished half brothers had built, and how the streets of Moskva had recently quaked, causing the Tzar to organize a search for a possible surviving Dragon under the city. Fox loved the disappointment in his voice when he added that they’d found nothing but rats and an anarchist’s bomb.
When the musicians lowered their instruments, the world suddenly felt very still. And much cooler without the Barsoi’s arm around her waist.
“Three days,” Orlando Tennant whispered as he led her off the dance floor. “Give me three days for your answer. Though I still don’t understand why you’d want to know.”
Fox sensed the Bluebeard’s shadow as Orlando kissed her on the cheek, but she sent the shadow back to its bloody mansion and forced herself to forget that he’d made desire rhyme with fear.
“Well, I never! Orlando Tennant.” Jacob was next to her so suddenly that Fox gave a start, as though a stranger had grabbed her arm. “Got tired of the hot summers in Metagirta?”
“Jacob.” So the Barsoi remem
bered him. He frowned and eyed Fox from head to toe. “No. Impossible.”
“I know. This one still wears her fur too often. Tell her! She won’t listen to me anymore.”
Fox couldn’t read Orlando’s look. Maybe there was some understanding in it. How often had he changed his name, invented a new life in a new place, changed his appearance?
“It’s not something one can just stop doing,” he said. “Please forgive me for monopolizing her. I truly had no idea that I was dancing with the girl who is so inseparably linked to Jacob Reckless.”
“Oh no, Fox belongs only to herself.” Pride and tenderness weren’t the only feelings she heard in Jacob’s voice. Something else had come into it. Pain. Regret. Fear. Go! You are free. Save me from causing you more pain.
The Tzar was moving to leave the ball. The musicians quickly picked up their instruments. The crowd parted like a flock of birds for the hawk while the orchestra intoned Varangia’s anthem. The Tzar nodded at Jacob as he walked past. Nicolaij was taller than most of his officers, with dark, curly hair and a profile that matched that of Varangia’s heraldic animal, the double-headed eagle. Women looked at him as longingly as the men did. “He will return Varangia to greatness.” “He will remind our nobles that our roots are in the East.” “He will reconcile the rich and the poor.” “He will free the serfs.” Fox had not heard a single bad word about him that night, but this was, after all, his palace and his ball.
Besides his mistress, the Tzar was accompanied by a dozen officers. And Kami’en. Hentzau, Nesser, and the other Goyl joined them as they reached the door.
“So, Varangia and the Goyl are now officially allies?” Jacob asked. “Your master won’t like that.”
“No,” Tennant replied. “The Goyl supposedly made Nicolaij a gift that’s more useful than the jeweled swords he usually receives. But what that gift was is Moskva’s best-kept secret. What are you here for? A firebird? Golden apples? Baba Yaga skulls? Or has it to do with your companion’s questions?”
He didn’t wait for Jacob’s reply.
“I hope the Dark Fairy doesn’t arrive for a while,” he whispered to Fox, “if that will keep you in Moskva.”
Then he disappeared into the throng.
Connected
Flowers blossomed wherever the Dark One stepped in the sharp-bladed grass. The rain kissed her skin, the trees whispered her name, but all she saw was the yarn. It was a noose since Kami’en had come to Moskva, a noose of golden yarn.
So close.
Why had he come? So strong was the temptation to have Chithira turn the carriage around and make her own lies come true by driving her to Moskva after all. Drive on! she tried to command herself while the rain soaked through her hair and clothes. It kept pouring down as though trying to turn the whole world into a lake, a lake like the one that had spawned her. Away from him! Instead, she stood under the wide and alien sky and wondered what Kami’en was thinking, whether he missed her... Whether he really believed she’d killed his son.
He was so close.
“We have to move.” Donnersmarck wiped the rain from his face. “I have a feeling we’re being followed.”
As though she didn’t know that. Her dreams were of glass and jade. But what did it matter? Kami’en was the one she was running from. Her sisters would never understand that, just as they’d never understood her leaving them for him.
To be free. Free of them, free of him, free of herself. That’s what had made her get into her carriage. The boy who was following her had followed her into her dreams for as long as she could remember. Maybe to be truly free she had to let him catch up to her. She’d always known he would one day. As for those who watched over him…the Dark One’s dreams only showed hazy images, two blurry outlines of glass and silver barely visible behind the dark figure of a Goyl. As though they had a way to hide themselves from her. She knew who’d sent them, even though neither she nor her red sister had ever encountered the vanished Alderelves. Years ago, she’d come upon one of the Silver-Alders near a castle she and Kami’en were staying in. Despite the thick snow all around it, the air under the Alder’s crown had been as hot and humid as a summer night. A voice had whispered through the rustling leaves. She’d liked that voice, just as she liked many of the things her sisters were afraid of.
Why had Kami’en come to the East?
Not for her.
No.
And even if he had, he would never admit it, not even to himself.